


The Fact Of The Matter

by Call_Me_Mrs_Rogers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Best Friend Sebastian, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Journalist Reader, Protective Sebastian Stan, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-01-23 01:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21311515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Mrs_Rogers/pseuds/Call_Me_Mrs_Rogers
Summary: Miranda Hartley has always loved her best friend to pieces, and that means hanging out with his friends. But when faced with an ex and an awkward situation, she ends up with a fake-boyfriend and a whole lot of drama...
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/Original Female Character(s), Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader, Sebastian Stan/Original Female Character(s), Sebastian Stan/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	1. Description of Miranda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short description of Miranda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend alerted me to the fact that I've never actually said what Miranda looks like so that's what this chapter is.  
In this book:  
Sebastian Stan is thirty-two ,  
Chris is thirty-three,  
Taylor Lautner is thirty.  
I know it's a weird change but I had to change the ages to make sense with the story.

**Basic Information:**

**Name:** Miranda Hartley

**Age:** 32

**Ethnicity: **Part Canadian, Part Indian, Part British

**Nationality:** British

**Nicknames:** Mir, Mira

**Best Friend:** Sebastian Stan

**Ex-Boyfriend:** Taylor Lautner

**Parents:** Deceased (Father - Heart Disease; Mother - Suicide From Grief)

**Career: **Journalist - Editor and Chief Operating Officer for The Hub

**Description:**

**Hair: **Long, Dark Brown, Mix of Wavy and Straight

**Eyes: **Hazel, Feline 

**Height: **Short

**Skin Colour: **Light Copper

**Note From Miranda:** Hi! I'm Miranda Hartley. All my life people have told me that I'm outgoing and confident but often let's my mind run away from me. When my parents passed I was only 5. I ended up living with my aunt moved and we moved to Boston soon after when my aunt got a job there. That's when I met Sebastian, the shy six-year-old next door. Life was okay from then on, at least until high-school. I guess that's when my anxiety started. It was during this time that I started looking at the conditions surrounding my mother's death. It was more than an interest, it was an obsession. People were scared to be around me, I was just the crazy girl in the corner scribbling in her notebook. God, that notebook. It was a small, black, moleskin notebook that I wrote in constantly. Wherever I went the notebook came with me. It contained all my conspiracies to what really happened that day. Even when my Aunt took me t a therapist I never stopped writing until Sebastian spoke to me. He was the only one who didn't think I was a freak, the only one who stayed by my side the whole time. He sat me down one day and asked me questions. Questions about my theories, about my feelings, about my anxiety. That day I cried more than I'd ever done in my life but when it was over he took me to the woods, we dug a hole and buried the notebook. Maybe that's what sparks my love for investigation and journalism. It was an escape of sorts, a way to move from my life into another mystery. University was a new start. I've had a lot of those in my life. I studied Journalism at Emerson College and I would never forget the memories I made. Seb was there for all of it, for my first day, my first kiss, my first boyfriend, the first to share my bed and, most importantly, my worst anxiety attack. It was brought on when I was helping my friend Casey with her ethics homework and the topic was a debate on suicide. At first I was fine, I was just reading through her essay and just as I reached the last paragraph, out of no where my heart stuttered in my chest and I stopped breathing. They started happening more and more frequently but I learnt to live with them. After uni I went on to my first job at The Boston Globe. It was a low paying job but Sebastian was kind enough to let me live with him. Slowly I rose in the ranks and when I was near the top I was offered my current job which I grabbed with both hands. That brings me to the Miranda you know today. I may be anxious, I may be odd, but I care enormously for the people close to me.


	2. Textual Tension

_“Okay,” the therapist finally says in an even voice, “Your notes are rather vague. I think it’s best that I hear your side of the story. From the beginning.”_  
“The beginning? I honestly don’t know where it all began,” I confess, running my fingertips across the smooth wood of the desk and avoiding eye-contact.  
“Well how about this, just think back to what caused you all to gather in the first place,” she suggests lightly, leaning forwards ever so slightly in her plush leather chair.  
Letting out a deep sigh, I nod, “I guess it all started with the text…”  
\----------------  
Feeling the bed sink beside me, I turn my head and grin at Sebastian who is reclining with his hands beneath his head, wearing a matching smile. I shuffle up a little so that my back is against the headboard and ruffle his hair a little.  
If it were anyone but me, I know that Seb would blush and duck out of the way but this kind of casual affection is normal for us, has been since our first blood brother ceremony at seven years old.  
Now that’s a story. Never let two best friends, young and imaginative, who have just had a lesson on the Native American’s, roam free in the kitchen. We performed the solemn ritual of making a small incision on the inside of our wrists before binding them with my dad’s tie. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, _what about all the **diseases**_ We were seven, okay! It seemed like an important rite of passage at the time! Besides, it brought us closer and that, after our parents got over the horror of finding us bound with a bloody tie, was the most important thing.  
“Right, out with it!” I demand, pulling him up and sitting crossed legged facing him. “I want to know _everything_.”  
He chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender, “Fine, fine. It was…”  
I hold my breath until I realise he’s not going to say anything. Swiftly poking him in the gut, I widen my eyes and raise my eyebrows. “Sebby,” I whine using one of the many nicknames that I’ve adopted for him, “I wanna know!”  
“It was amazing,” he gushes finally, eyes twinkling, “She’s everything and more.”  
“Oh Bash,” I take his hands in mine and squeeze softly, “That’s brilliant. Do you really like her? Do you see it going anywhere? Is she the one?”  
“Yeah, meh, no.”  
“What?” I ask equally astonished and confused, “Surely if you like her it could become more?”  
He shrugs, lackluster, “I mean, she’s exceptional but she’s not _my_ exception, does that make any sense?”  
Nodding forlornly, I press my lips together. He does this more often than is normal. These amazing women throw themselves at him and he just shrugs and shakes his head. It’s not just that they’re attractive, they’re intelligent, genuine people as well. The reason that he chooses to be single will forever be a mystery to me but it’s not my place to question it. Or is it…?  
“Bastian, you know I love you but this is getting idiotic. There isn’t a single woman that you’ve shown any interest in since God knows when. You deserve to find someone and you sure as hell aren’t gonna do that by spending your Saturday night binge-watching Brooklyn-99 with me.”  
“Who needs a girlfriend when my best girl is sitting right beside me?” he counters with a cheeky grin. I know it’s silly and small but I still blush like a mad-woman and shove him amicably.  
“Shut up you soppy div,” I joke, rolling my eyes with a laugh. Before he can respond, snarkily most likely, his phone lets out a high pitched ping so he reaches over and grabs it. I watch his expression carefully so that I can guess who’s texting and observe that his shoulders slump and lips curve upwards simultaneously. _Well what does that mean? Good or bad? Relief or dread?_ He doesn’t say anything to answer my internal questions so I give him a light poke. “Hey, what is it?”  
“Hmmmm?” he hums, tilting his chin towards me but not looking at me.  
“Right,” I say, snatching his phone and ignoring his sound of protest, “Let’s see what we have here.” Clearly I was expecting to find a girl that he’s secretly pining after but instead I look up at the name and sigh… he’s texting Chris. Giving him a pointed look, I return to the texts and read them aloud, rolling onto my front so he can’t get the phone back. 

_Chris: Fundraiser next Friday. Fiona wanted me 2 let u know. U in?_

Fiona, their agent, is a lively lady of 32 who always sports a smile and who’s jolly nature is contagious. Scrolling down, I continue to read. 

_Sebastian: 4 sure, as long as I can drag Miranda along???_  
Chris: Knew u would ask, already spoke 2 F, says it’s fine.  
Sebastian: Brill, txt me the details. Who else is going?  
Chris: Scar, RDJ, Mackie ect…  
Sebastian: Any 1 not MCU?  
Chris: Mir’s friend Taylor Lautner.  
Sebastian: Ok.  
Chris: Cld u make sure M doesn’t bring journs… 

I guess it makes sense for Chris to be cautious about me inviting my journalist co-workers but he doesn’t have to be so blunt with his blatant distrust. 

_Sebastian: U know she won’t. _  
Chris: Ik just double check tho?  
Sebastian: I’m telling you, man, I don’t need to but yh sure.  
Chris: Thnx man. 

With the sole purpose of pushing Seb’s buttons, I stand up and run to the study, taking his phone with me and locking the door. My fingers move deftly across the screen as I hop onto the desk, swinging my legs and pushing the phone against my ear. It rings four times before a groggy voice answers, “Hello?”  
“Chrissy!” I inject as much perkiness into my voice as possible and giggle quietly as he groans, “Surely you weren’t _asleep_?”  
“Miranda, it’s almost midnight and I have to be places tomorrow, _of course_ I was asleep.”  
“Oh my darling Christopher, what a bad liar you are,” I sing, shaking my head.  
“What are you on about?” he then yawns.  
“Your texts to Sebby?” I suggest.  
“I just got confirmation from Fiona, had to let him know,” he explains, obviously fatigued.  
“Yet you don’t have time to talk to your old pal Miranda?” I ask, mocking hurt. I can feel is exasperation through the line and giggle again.  
“What can I help you with, Mir?” he says eventually.  
“Absolutely nothing,” I reply.  
“So why are you calling me?” he sounds more tired than irritated and I feel suddenly bad that I dragged him into this when my only intention is to mess with Seb. I shrug until I remember that he can’t see me.  
“Who knows?” I state before remembering myself, “Actually, I know. This fundraiser, what’s it for and why’s Lautner going to be there?”  
“Uh, Mind, I’m pretty sure ,” he pauses before continuing, “and I’m not sure, I guess it’s because he’s in that new film?”  
My eyes narrow, “What film? He hasn’t mentioned a new film to me.”  
“I don’t know, Mir, I’m exhausted, can I call you tomorrow?”  
“Yeah sure. Sorry, love you,” I say distractedly, completely not realising what had slipped out.  
“Uh, love you too?” his voice is laced with uncertainty, “Bye, Mir, get some sleep.”  
That’s the last thing I hear before the high-pitched tone tells me that he’s hung up and probably passed out. Shaking my head to myself and suppressing a grin, I hop off the desk and throw open the door. I’m faced with a very peeved Sebastain who snatches his phone back before reaching his arms out and throwing me over his shoulder as I squeal. “Sebby!” I shriek, smacking the back of his legs, “Off, off, off!”  
“Never!” he carries me all the way back to his room whereupon he turns around and drops be backwards so that I flip onto the bed. I land with an almighty, “oof!” and roll my eyes as Seb lies down beside me, smirking. “You’re an idiot,” I claim.  
“Whatever,” he shrugs, “It was payback. Besides, I wanna know what you told Evans.”  
Now it’s my turn to shrug, though my nocholance is lost as I turn my head away from him, “Lautner.”  
“Oh,” he exhales.  
“Yeah, oh.” I sigh, rolling onto my side to face him, my hands under my head, “It still hurts, Bastian.”  
“Oh, darling, I know it does.” This response is so standard that it annoys me.  
“Do you though? He never told me why, Seb, and that hurts. He showed up one day and it was over, just like that.” my words come out in a rush, melting together like molasses.  
In one smooth movement Sebastian wraps his arms around me, pulling us both into a sitting position. He hugs me close and rests his chin on the top of my head as I nuzzle into his chest.  
“Mir, I can’t even begin to imagine how it felt for you to be in that position,” he begins, “But what I can tell you is that Lautner is an idiot. If he can’t see that you’re amazing, smart and cute as a button then that’s his loss. You deserve better than him, don’t keep beating yourself up about it.” I’ve heard this exact same speech about a thousand times in the past but I still feel warmth blossom in my chest at his words.  
“Thank you,” I murmur.  
After that moment of deep conversation, we fall back into our normal patterns of mirth and humour, joking around and watching some TV before falling asleep in a mess of entangled limbs and blankets, wrapped around each other.


	3. Whistle While You Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Miranda gets a surprise visit at her office, she ends up reliving a painful past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey,  
So I forgot to do this last time (sorry) so I'm gonna do it now. My name's CeCe and I used to have an account but then I deleted it but then I resurrected it again. I've been writing for about two years now and I mostly use Quotev under the name asinaKS. All of my work here is also there and there's more of it on Quotev. So yeah, enjoy.

We spend Sunday lounging around Seb’s apartment and doing absolutely nothing. It was bliss. Then came Monday, and with it, work. Sebastian has the week off because he has an audition to prep for but he offered to drop me off to work that morning. The great thing about us is that we’re so close that we basically live at each others houses which means that he has a drawer in his room reserved for my clothes and I have the same for him. The drive is short and I spend it complaining to him about how Kimberly, who works beneath me, keeps trying to get promoted to my job as Chief Operating Officer and Chief Editor. By the time we pull up, he knows the ins and outs of the argument but has refrained from commenting. 

“Hmmm,” he hums once I’ve finished my rant, “Sounds like this Kimberly woman is hard work.”

“God, she really is,” I agree as I open the door and begin to step out. 

“Well she ain’t got nothing on you,” he replies, grinning, “D’ya want me to pick you up? We could go to Giovanni’s for dinner.” The restaurant he names is a quaint Italian establishment run by one of his friends who came to be my friend as well. 

“Sounds great, I’ll be done around six-thirty hopefully,” I’m just about to shut the door but he stops me. 

“Mira, wait,” I turn to him expectantly and he smirks, “Have a good day.”

I roll my eyes but smile nonetheless, “You too. See you later, love you.

“Love you too,” then the door slams and he drives off, leaving me staring into space. The clicking of a nearby woman’s heels brings me back and I spin to face the wide, oddly-shaped building. The exterior is made up of red, green, blue, yellow, purple and white geometric shapes. It looks as if a bunch of multi-coloured cubes have been stuck together with glue. The rest of the building is made up of large windows bordered with coloured accents. As I walk towards the entrance, I greet the people I know with a voice that is as friendly as I can manage so early in the day. When I get to my office I find that Larry, my assistant, is already inside, organising some papers on my desk. “Good morning,” I chirp, walking around my desk and setting my bag down on the desk in front of my Mac. 

“Morning Miss Hartley,” he replies, happy as ever. 

“Larry, how many times have I told you, call me Miranda, Miss Hartley makes me sound old,” I make an ick face and he laughs before finishing off with the papers and leaving. Taking a definitive breath, I raise my chin and set my jaw, ready for a day’s hard work. The first thing I do is change out of my commuting trainers and into my sleek black work heels before walking to the office door and poking my head around it, “Larry? Could you be a dear and make me some tea?” 

He nods and scurries off, leaving me with no other stalling tactics. Sighing, I take a seat on my red chair at the smooth white desk. Upon logging in, I find that I already have three articles and one filmed segment to review. 

*******************************************

_ “So your work,” the therapist interrupts, “tell me more about it.” _

_ “Well it’s called The Hub and we’re a journalistic organization. We have six different newspapers, both digital and paper, that each focus on different things, for example one concentrates on politics while another is on pop culture. We also have three news channels structured in the same way in the sense that they each have different focal points. We also have weather and news apps and I would say that we’re a successful business.” _

_ She nods in a way that doesn’t give me any insight to her thoughts and leans forwards ever so slightly and says, “Okay, good start, but I meant the atmosphere. Try again.” _

_ I’m sure that my sigh is audible but she doesn’t comment on it. “Well that’s a question and a half. I guess they’re trying to make it a very fun, warm environment to work in, you know what I mean? It’s all an explosion of colour and pot plants and random sculptures and exercise balls. It all feels a little crazy sometimes, a little chaotic. Like nobody quite knows what’s going on any more and everybody is just playing off one another but it doesn’t work.” I’m aware that I’m no longer talking about the office but the therapist doesn’t stop me, instead she looks pleased. “No-one wants to admit that it needs to stop because they’re too afraid of what might happen if they do. Though when the secret crumbles everyone’s so quick to point fingers and they shoot each other down until the only people left spend their days grieving their losses. They all just long for the way things were. Why can’t things go back to the way they were?” _

_ I don’t realise that I’m crying until my therapist waves a box of tissues at me. Murmuring a thank you, I wipe my eyes and take a sip from the glass of water on the edge of her desk. “So I assume that you weren’t talking about your workplace?” she says eventually, after I’ve had a chance to calm down. I simply nod, not strong enough to speak. “Interesting,” this comment annoys me, she’s acting like all I am is a file that she finds fascinating instead of a woman with a past that tore her apart from the inside out. _

_ ************************************** _

Once I get back into the swing of things it’s easy to immerse myself in the routine and let myself sink into my duties like I usually do. After I’ve set the most recent segment for publishing, I prop my elbows on the table and let my head fall into my upturned palms the way it has countless times in the past. I know that my colleagues refer to this position as the ‘do not disturb’ because they know that in this state I am too exhausted to deal with people. It is at this moment that my phone rings in it’s shrill droning, causing me to groan and throw my head back. One hand reaches out to grab the phone and I press answer. “Miranda Hartley, how can I help?” I chirp with fake perkiness. 

“Hi, Miss Hartley, there’s a man here that says he knows you? Should I send him up?”

That must be Sebastian to pick me up for lunch. A glance at the clock tells me that he’s half an hour early, typical. Smiling, I reply, “Yes please, Ashley, thanks.” 

“No problem, sending him up now.”

After I’ve hung up it’s about two minutes before a sharp knock sounds at my door. “Come in, honey,” I call, not looking up from reading a contract. 

“Uh, hi,” that’s not Seba’s voice. My eyes snap up and I’m met with an awkward half smile. 

“Oh, Chris, hello,” I greet, smiling, “What a lovely surprise!”

“Yeah, I popped round today but Seb said you were at work. I thought I’d just see how you were.”

“That’s really sweet,” I take a seat on the couch by the french windows and motion for him to sit beside me, “I’m doing fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

He sighs, “You just seemed kind of down about the whole Lautner thing.”

I can feel the colour drain from my face and the smile drop from my lips, “I mean I had a bit of a freak out when I got off the phone with you.”

“How come?” he says softly, taking my hand in his. 

“Did I ever tell you how it ended between us?” he shakes his head, “Well it was last Autumn, about four days before our two year anniversary and he’d told me that morning that he wanted to meet me. Of course I said yes but he didn’t just want to come over, he said he would meet me at noon at the Cozy Cup, the cafe where we had our first date. The entire morning I was so excited, I’d somehow convinced myself,” I let out a short, humourless laugh, “that he was going to propose. Ridiculous, right?”

“Oh, Mir, of course it’s not,” he says softly, squeezing my hand slightly. 

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? So I was so excited and nervous and just, I don’t know… relieved? Does that make sense? I’m obviously not the most desirable women in the world,” he opens his mouth to object but I hold up a finger, “don’t, I’m just not, and I thought to myself, who knows if anyone will want me after Lautner, you know? I know it doesn’t make sense and I don’t know how else to describe this relief, but it was there and it was powerful. So I put on my favourite burgundy sweater dress and went on my merry way. When I got there though, something felt off. He was all fidgety and refused to tell me why until after I’d had a pastry and a drink. He was obviously trying to get me relaxed, which figures… the next words to come out of his mouth were ‘This isn’t working anymore.’ He broke my heart in four words. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he twisted the dagger by rambling but not actually giving me a reason.”

“Miranda,” he breathes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say,” I shrug and slide my hand from his before standing. “Now, I said I’d meet Sebastian for dinner, so I can’t stay. Unless you’d like to join us?”

“Uh, would Seb mind?” he asks hesitantly, standing also.

“Of course not, we’re getting Italian…” I sing, poking him lightly in the side, “Come on, you know you want to.”

“If you’re sure he won’t mind, I’d love to,” he gives in. 

“Yay! Just give me a second to call Seb and tell him I’m done here,” he nods and I dig through my bag to find my phone. It only takes a second for me to find his contact because he’s at the top of my favourites. Once I’ve hit call I hold it to my ear and turn away from Chris to the windows that overlook the city. 

“Hello?” Seb’s gruff voice answers. 

“Bash, hi! It’s me, obviously,” I chirp, already feeling more relaxed and at ease. 

“Hey, doll, you done for the day?” he drawls.

“Yup. One thing though, can I bring Chris along?” I ask shyly.

“You’re going to need to be a tad more specific, princess,” he replies. 

“Chris Evans, he’s in the office with me.”

This seems to take him by surprise, “Evans is in your office? Why?”

“It’s a long story,” it’s vague but it works. 

“Yeah, sure he can come, I’m just pulling up now, meet me in the lobby?”

“On my way, see you in a sec.” After I’ve hung up I gather my things and shrug on my trench coat. 

“So it’s cool with him if I come along?” Chris asks as we ride the elevator downwards.

“I told you it would be, have a little faith,” I reply absentmindedly, internally checking off all the things I’ve completed today from my to-do-list. 

“Hey! I have faith!” he objects. Shrugging, I step out of the lift and immediately spot Sebastian leaning on the reception desk and chatting to Ashley. 

“Bash!” I call out, running over and throwing my arms around him. 

He hugs me back tight before pulling back slightly, beaming, “Mir!” 

Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I grab his hand and, with the other hand, sign myself out. “Right, boys, let’s go!” I announce as Seb gives Chris one of those wave-salutes that guys do. We make our way outside and I slide into the passenger seat of Bucky’s range-rover while Chris climbs into the back and Seb goes to the driver's seat. 

“Chris, you ever been to Giovanni’s?” Seb asks, pulling out. 

“Once or twice,” he responds, “It was good, the manager’s a mate.”

“Really? He’s mine too,” they continue their conversation with no input from me, leaving me to gaze out of the window until part of their discussion snatches my interest. 

“What d’ya think of that waitress,” Seb begins as we turn onto the road. 

“She’s nice. Real nice,” is the response from Chris. 

“Um, excuse me,” I interject, “Do not objectify women!”

“We’re not,” Seb objects, “We’re simply making an observation.”

“Yeah well observe in your own time, we’re here,” I announce, waiting until we’re parked to open the door and step out, the sound of Seb’s soft laughter ringing in my ears. 

They both follow me out and Chris walks a couple of paces in front. Seb smirks at me and I make a face back, hanging my tongue out the side of my mouth and crossing my eyes. Chuckling, he loops an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. 

“Guys!” Chris suddenly calls out, turning towards us, “It’s closed!” 

“What?” I detach myself from Seb and jog the last few paces up the road to the shop front, “It can’t be, it’s never closed on Monday.”

“Yeah, well it is,” he replies, making me roll my eyes. 

“I can call Giovanni?” Seb suggests, coming up behind us. Before we have a chance to respond he has the phone up to his ear. “Gio, hey, we’re at the shop but it’s closed up.... yeah… yeah… oh, okay… thanks, talk soon, bye bye.”

“So?” I say when he gets off the phone, “What’d he say?”

“His head chef caught a bug and it kind of spread to the rest of them, so they’ll open back up when they’re good again,” he explains as we make our way back to the car. 

“So dinner plans are off, I guess,” Chris says. 

“Or…” I say, causing Seb to look at me curiously as he drives, “I could whip something up?”

“You really don’t have to,” Chris wavers, “I can just go home if it’s easier.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I wave off, “I love to cook, it’s no bother.”

“It’s true,” Seb confirms, “She’s awesome at it. Name a dish and she can make it.”

“Bit of an exaggeration,” I say, “But basically, yeah.”

“Well if it’s okay with you then I’d love to come over,” Chris replies. 

“Brilliant, Seb, there’s a shortcut to my apartment from here, just take the next left then the third right.”

When we get there I fish out my keys and unlock the door. “Home sweet home,” I announce, walking in with the other two following behind me. Seb immediately takes up his usual space on the couch and I roll my eyes with an affectionate smile before turning to Chris who stands uncertainly in the doorway. “Chris, make yourself comfortable, I’m going to change, won’t be a minute.” 

Without waiting for a response I head off to my room and change into my pyjamas: a burgundy tank top paired with beige shorts patterned with flowers. It’s around mid-autumn so I cover up with a grey anorak before heading out again. Seb looks up at me and laughs, “Wow, Miranda, sexy outfit.”

“Shut up!” I say, throwing a nearby pillow at him, “I was going for comfortable!”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he jokes.

“If you’re not careful you’ll get a nasty surprise in your dinner,” I tease, swatting his arm on the way to the kitchen. 

“You know you love me,” he calls.

“You’re damn lucky that’s true,” I reply as I’m washing my hands. Then I pull out a chopping board and start raiding the fridge for vegetables. “Right, boys, I’m making grilled peri-peri chicken with a side of mozzarella bean salad. Hope you’re hungry.”

“Sounds amazing,” Chris grins at me. 

Seb then switches on a football game and their attention is then diverted to yelling abuse at the players, leaving me to cook in peace. After gathering green beans, edamame beans, peas and sweetcorn, I place them in a pot and set them to boil. While that’s cooking, I marinate the chicken and fry the mozarella. I turn off the vegetables when they’re done and place them in a salad bowl with the friend mozzarella. Putting that to one side, I take out the chicken and grill it. Once that’s done I plate it and move everything over to the dining table. “Boys, dinner’s ready,” I call. Immediately the TV shuts off and the two men slide into their chairs. 

“This look great, doll, thanks,” Seb says, tucking in. 

“You’re very welcome,” I reply, taking a bite of my own, “So, Chris, I need your help with something.”

“What?” he questions, vaguely suspicious.

“Getting Bash a girlfriend,” I answer, laughing at the death glare I get from my best friend. 

“Oi! Evans has been single longer than me!” Seb objects. 

“Really?” I say, turning my attention to Chris. 

“Dude, thanks for that,” Chris says sarcastically. Seb just shrugs but does look at least a little guilty. As he should be, now I have a new victim. 

“Okay, first things first, what’s your type, worst character trait for a girlfriend and what do you find most attractive in a woman?” I babble, leaning forwards on my elbows. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Chris stops me before I can continue my list of questions, “What is happening right now?”

“This is what she does,” Seb answers for me, “It’s her mission in life to find girlfriends for all the bachelor’s she comes across.”

“Yep, now answer my questions,” I demand. 

“Ugh, fine,” he relents, “My type is exotic brunettes with hazel eyes, I guess.”

“That’s very specific for a guess,” Seb observes. 

“Yeah, well,” is the only response we get. “What was the next question?”

“Worst trait,” I repeat. 

“Right, yeah, I would say greed or an over-inflated ego.”

“Okay, last question, what do you find most attractive in a woman?” 

“Personality,” he responds in a heartbeat.

“Too vague,” I counter, rolling my eyes, “Try again.”

“No, I mean, it’s true… and there’s one surefire way to know a gal’s personality,” he wiggles his eyebrows at me. 

“Colour me intrigued,” Seb leans forwards slightly, “Do tell.”

“If you wanna know if your gal’s actually worth it, suggest that you meet their friends. People always show their true colours when they’re around people they know well. Say, this Kimberly I used to date-”

“Hold up,” I interrupt, “Kimberly Nicholls?”

“Uh, yeah, how’d you know that?” he asks.

Ignoring him, I mutter, “Ugly little weasley so-and-so.”

“Um, okay? Anyway,” he continues, “She was really rude to all of her friends and was very uppity so I broke up with her the next day. Take you, Miranda, for example. If I were dating you I would see how you act with Seb and know that I'm very lucky guy.”

“I think…” I begin, not noticing that Seb’s eyebrows furrow, “I think I’ve found a girl for you.”

“Who?” Seb sounds instantly suspicious but I ignore it. 

“Ashley,” I answer. 

Immediately Seb’s face lights up, “Work Ashley? That’s perfect!”

“I know, right?” I say with a grin, “I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Chris cuts in. 

“No,” Seb and I both say at the same time before laughing. 

“Great, thanks,” Chris says sarcastically.

“Well now that’s sorted, let’s eat!” Seb announces, picking up his fork. 

\-----------------

About an hour later, when everything is packed away, we lounge strewn out across the sofa. Seb and I are curled up together at one end, a carton of mint-choc-chip ice-cream between us, and Chris sits at the other, opting for a bowl of strawberry ice-cream. The TV is playing _ Modern Family _, but it’s more background noise than anything else. 

“Come on, guys, it’s pretty darn obvious,” Chris weedles. 

“It’s really not, dude, have you ever even experienced it?” Seb questions. 

“Duh, it’s just that other things are so much better!” Chris argues back. 

“Well that,” I object, waving my spoon around, “Is utter nonsense.”

“Exactly,” Seb agrees, “Mint choc-chip is clearly the supreme ice-cream flavour.”

“No way! Strawberries and cream!” Chris declares. 

“Right, c'mere you,” I dig my spoon into the ice-cream before lunging at him. His eyes widen as I bring the spoon to his lips. “Eat.” 

“Nuh uh,” he refuses, turning away from me, which doesn’t help him because I simply grasp his chin and force it in. He grunts in disapproval but swallows it nonetheless. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he claims once he’s able. 

Shrugging in response, I ask, “So?”

“So… I stand by my earlier opinion,” he answers.

“Piffle!” I announce. The boys look at me with a mix of confusion an amusement. 

“Piffle?” Sebastian questions. 

“Piffle,” I confirm, nodding. “Piffle, nonsense, blather, codswallop, poppycock.”

“You and your Britishness,” Seb shakes his head fondly. 

“What about it?” I challenge, sitting up between them and crossing my legs. 

“It’s endearing,” Chris smiles and I blush at him. In my peripheral vision I see the corners of Seb’s mouth turn down. There’s an awkward silence until something springs to mind. 

“Oh!” I exclaim, causing the guys to look up at me, “I was thinking about that charity fundraiser while I was at work today. It’s in San Diego, right?”

“Sure is,” Chris replies. 

“Well obviously we’ll need to find somewhere to stay, and I may know a guy.”

“Jag?” Sebastian immediately guesses. 

“Jag,” I confirm. 

“Wait, who’s Jag?” Chris is obviously very lost. 

“He owns a string of hotels along the West Coast and happens to have one in San Diego near where we have to be.” I explain. “I’ve already called him and he wants to know numbers. Chris, you in?”

“Yeah, sounds great. Would it be fine if the others came along too?”

“Others?” I’m confused as to who he’s referring to. 

“You know, Downey, Scarlett, Mackie… the others,” he clarifies. 

“Oh yeah, that’s fine. Could you give them my number and get them to text me?” I ask.

“I don’t…” his voice is abnormally high so he clears his throat. “I don’t have your number,” he says in his normal tone. 

“Oh, give your phone here, then,” he does as I ask and I put in my details. “There, now could you give them my number?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies. 

“I could’ve done that,” Sebastian states. 

The silence returns and, so that I have something to look at, I glance at the  clock  that sits on the counter and sigh, “Boys, this was fun, but I really gotta get some sleep, long day tomorrow. Seb I’m sure you’re gonna stay anyway but Chris you’re welcome to stay the night?”

“Thanks for the offer but I’d better be gettin’ back,” he replies, standing up and grabbing his coat. 

“Suit yourself,” I shrug, standing also to give him a hug goodbye. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes once before letting go. 

“It was great to see you again,” he kisses my cheek before letting himself out. 

Once he’s gone I yawn and stretch my arms above my head. “I’m knackered, you coming to bed?”

He just nods, a far-off look in his eye. Too tired to question it, I wander to my room and hang up my anorak before sliding into my bed and curling up beneath the covers. A few moments later Sebastian comes in, gets changed in the bathroom, then emerges and climbs into bed beside me. Like always, he opens his arms and I move into his body, nuzzling my nose in his chest and feeling his chin rest atop my head. A comforting silence engulfs us until he breaks it. “Miranda?” he whispers. 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	4. Trouble In Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weekend has begun! Everything's looking up! At least until Miranda gets a call...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't I tell you that I would update fast?  
I tried to add some picture links to this one but they might not work. Fingers crossed.

The rest of the week at work is pleasantly uneventful and I came home every day to my eccentrically awesome best friend who always managed to make me laugh. We spent our evenings watching re-watching Gossip girl together for the 100th time and planning our little weekend getaway. By that I mean we drank red wine and made ridiculously elaborate plans as to what we would get up to over the weekend. We’d arranged that I’d take Friday of work so that we could arrive in San Diego by mid-day to give us a chance to explore the city. By the time Friday finally rolled around I was a ball of excitement. 

The morning brings rays of sunlight that filter in through a gap in the curtain. Reaching my arms out, I expect to find Sebastian and am surprised when I’m met with empty space. “Bash!” I call out. 

My bathroom door opens and he pokes his head out, “Yeah?” 

“Nothing,” I smile at him as he rolls his eyes and disappears back inside, presumably to take a shower. After a few more minutes I pull myself out of bed and to my wardrobe. My travel outfit is already hanging on the left so I take it out and lay it onto the bed before changing into the leggings and plaid shirt I picked out last night. Not bothering with anything too fancy, I pin my hair up in a loose bun with a [ hair clamp. ](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71R5dmP%2BD3L._SL1500_.jpg)After waiting for Seb to come out of the bathroom for half an hour, I give up and pound on the door. The shower turns off and Seb says, “Just a minute!”

“You get thirty seconds,” I yell back. “I gotta get ready and we only have,” I look at my watch, “Forty minutes until we need to leave!”

“Okay, one sec.” Staying true to his word, he comes out moments later wearing a navy blue t-shirt and black jeans, towelling his hair. 

“Finally,” I sigh, darting past him and into the bathroom where I proceed to brush my teeth and consider covering my spots with make-up before deciding against it and returning to my room. By now it’s empty and I assume that Seb’s gone to eat breakfast. When I go in he’s facing the stove with his back to me, humming gently. Smiling to myself, I go up behind him and put my hands over his eyes. “Guess who?”

“Gee, this is a hard one… Michelle Obama?” he teases, before turning and kissing my forehead. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning,” I sing, looking past him at the two mugs sitting on the counter. “One of those for me?”

“No, I’m gonna drink two cups of tea myself,” he says dryly. Shrugging, I reach around to take my mug and take a long sip. 

“Mmmm, what’s that smell?” I wonder aloud, lifting my nose into the air. 

“Pancakes,” a small grin creeps onto his lips, “want some?”

“Duh,” I reach up and grab a plate before piling a couple onto it and taking a seat at the island. Seb grabs his own and stands opposite me, dousing his pancakes in golden syrup. Making an ick face at him, I take the icing sugar duster and sift it over my pancakes. “How on Earth can you stomach golden syrup?” I wander aloud. 

“The same way you can have icing sugar.” His cocky grin returns and I roll my eyes affectionately before letting my eyes drift to the clock. Half and hour until we meet Chris at the airport. 

“We’d better hurry up, not long until we have to leave.”

He follows my gaze to the clock, gasps, and begins to shovel food into his mouth. Echoing his movements, I finish eating and slide our plates into the dishwasher. We do a last minute check that we have everything, head out of the door and climb into Seb’s range-rover. A car-ride, a short plane-journey and a coach ride later, we are loitering in the hotel lobby, waiting for the rest of the group. The people staying with us are RDJ, Tom Holland, Anthony Mackie and Scarlett Johansson. 

We’re seated at the armchairs facing the fireplace, our suitcases to one side. Sebastian and Chris are reliving some long, involved memory, leaving me to stare into the flames and contemplate life. By that I mean I’m stressing about seeing my ex-boyfriend after two years of ruthlessly ignoring him. Though don’t get it twisted, he made no real effort to reach out. 

The orange forks of flame that lick the air remind me of a time when we watched the New Years fireworks together, huddled under a thick tartan blanket and marvelling at the explosions of light. I miss him, more than I care to admit. 

“Miranda, you good there?” Seb pulls me back, a concerned frown creasing his forehead

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” I reassure, bringing my hand to rest on his thigh, “Just tired.”

“Guys,” Chris interrupts, “The gang’s here.”

We turn to see the hurricane tearing towards us in a mass of laughter and excited chatter. Standing up to greet them, we meet in the middle and I’m engulfed in a group hug. I don’t know who starts it but soon enough we are all squealing and jumping up and down as a group. After a few moments we break apart and I’m met with smiling faces. 

“Miranda!” Tom greets, waving at me, even though he’s only a foot away. 

“Tom!” I echo with equal enthusiasm, “It’s been forever!”

“Sure has,” another voice chips in. Robert Downey Junior, the best of the best. “How are ya, kid?”

“Looking forward to this weekend,” I reply, grinning. 

“Aren’t we all,” he affirms, clapping my shoulder. 

“I sure am,” Scarlett adds, coming over and kissing my cheek. “Hey, Mir. Looking fabulous as always.” 

“Says you, that dress is fire.” I compliment, taking in her grey sweater dress. 

“Why thank you,” she gives a little twirl and we both laugh. 

“Oi oi, sexy!” somebody shouts. Immediately I spin around and launch myself at Mackie, my favourite of the bunch. 

“Mac and cheese!” I grin at him and he sets me down carefully on the floor. 

“Seriously, girl, you look hot,” he teases, lifting the sleeve of my shirt. 

“Shut up, you sound like Seb,” I slap his hand away and move back to the side of my best friend. “Speaking of, Bash, can you go get the room keys now?”

“Sure, doll,” he strokes a hand down his face before going over to the reception desk. In the time it takes for him to return with the room keys, we’ve all made our way to the elevator on the other side of the broad lobby. 

“What floor?” Mackie asks as we pile inside. 

“Um,” Seb looks at the cards, “Top floor.”

“Wait, Jag gave us the penthouse suite?” I question, astonished. 

“Yep,” Seb confirms, meeting my eye and grinning. 

“Awesome! I’ve always wanted to stay in a penthouse,” Tom explains excitedly. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Downey interrupts as we step onto our floor, “What’s the bedroom arrangement?”

“Five singles for each of you guys and a double for me and Miranda,” Seb answers. 

“Miranda and _ I _,” I correct, laughing at his expression. 

“Oh, shut up, you,” he pokes my side and I squeal, jerking away from him. Once I’ve righted myself, I poke him back in the arm. Of course this sparks a poking war as the rest of the group just watches us with a faint amusement. 

“Alright you two, calm it,” Scarlett commands eventually with a smile. 

With one last poke, Seb steps around me to unlock the door and it opens with a soft click. The second I step inside I’m awestruck. Everything in sight is soft and wooden in tone and colour. Colourful accents add a fun touch, from the rainbow throw pillows to the blush-pink curtains that hang against the long glass french windows. Almost immediately everybody goes to scout out their rooms but I let Seb take care of that, instead going to the kitchen/bar towards the windows and flicking on the kettle. After I’ve gotten out seven identical [ mugs ](https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/FHYybigrg30ideeQ8PrmgBIOBbL5KnTlRh-qFdHuFbGELsKEE9rfbqlnyp45dwaR9wqgufPZlzKGx5NjkHxwOBHiftOFt9g-gGre56xLpHelc-fJThQROT_G-DHrjlEegTW2asGbGc6DM0RMDc40bxFt-bBZHukrKAJ_FsPphNPrEIZINthj=w1365-h625) and placed a teabag in each one, Mackie walks in and around the island, peering into each mug. “Tea,” he states. “How delightfully British of you.”

I laugh and he grins that childish grin only he can pull off. He helps me finish making the tea and we move them to the coffee table. Just as Chris walks in, I pull my hair from it’s bun and let it fall around my shoulders. He sits beside me and I hand him a cup of tea which he accepts with a, “Cheers, Mir.”

“No problem,” I say, “So, who’s sleeping where?” 

“Come,” he stands up and pulls me with him, “I’ll show you. This place is _ huge _.” 

“God, I know, I’ll have to call Jag and thank him,” I realise. 

“Hmmm,” Chris hums, pulling me through a door just off the kitchen. “This,” he gestures around, “is my room.”

Compared to the rest of the suite, the room is relatively large. The sleigh-bed lies to the left of the room in tones of mahogany with the large windows directly in front of us, covered by [ soft teal curtains ](https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/proxy/lNdCDvTvq_zquLPgIVfuDdd58rj5WYX1Pcm1X9L5alp4Y-T4vZJzcjlDwt-t9LnNbDhQRTWj_7G-V-6jk9zL7UKHiXjy8WA8EIv3RWfnr83hvEeAo2_QKzlUUqovXFNYfgGn=w1365-h625) . Other than a mahogany chest of drawers and a matching mirror, the room is mostly bare, though it is far from dull; three of the walls are exposed brickwork and the last is painted a bold [ teal ](https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/proxy/dG6y3W98kBbxrMiosTzjSjJbYVSZHfDyQFzmMeAfQCgaTH3KwA8HugAOEG0naMc23-L4c6CVVCeICP2z1q7RSU6Aag0s9cRH0zyRtTc1pXvXCT5WGDyX7VpbrqV8mKztZvz0q1Oo8Vp3eGYvUT6fvCjfk_gFi9ci8Vx_UeSIP69slzne2cxPhM258x57H4qaFMJoGM5PfAJxgWfUc6KnU_SLncbCwjukN5esVOtfEfeWNgztasrUmf6e852o5rWAX4dhj0fHos0_v1JKvTESDg2wjGOHi7O_ImSIrKnWxF_QFl3mxcprFwQVWVdRzJijkbDVMdcqyVRDDvtm8oVbI5WLHBXmYaV72iCEu_2j-_7FTyxLCcQR7g07MM4JLd74_rOsIoth6xnWxT69VpHkYozCnVVXraCKNwIPEektigZN3SQs0PV615QlJ5F461orrpdObRWDy50B8Z27pM6jHEqk3RXRWgHgET40bnyzFEY5AuQNArVSTY-iQqggFgLJFPpl7oe9myCWwk0WzZrzFOPKBDpfnpFLoVp9iDvpFhmwJELuPLazrOHyXKTrBSDiMNST=w1365-h617). 

“It’s so…”

“It is, isn’t it?” he replies with a grin. 

Before our conversation can progress any further, from the other room somebody screeches, “Miranda!”

Widening my eyes, I dart out of the room and burst into main room, Chris right behind me. “What’s happened? Who’s hurt? Has anybody called 999?” I blurt in a rush, scanning the room for any immediate signs of danger. When I find nothing and am instead met with amused smiles, I let out an exasperated sigh, “Is no one going to explain what’s happened?”

“What are you on about Mir?” Seb appears beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulders and ruffling my hair. “Nothing’s happened, I just wanted to show you our room.”

“Sebastian Stan,” I sigh. “What am I to do with you?”

Laughing, he drags me back down the hallway to another door. With an exaggerated bow, he opens the door and I step inside, sucking in a deep breath at the sight of the interior. The room is almost identical to Chris’ in terms of the furniture but the walls are all exposed brick and the floor is shiny wooden floorboards. On [ shelves ](https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/m4U9TDykm-miTnRoyODERKEWJ2aQXwX7YVik7yOXgR8qssfhkaP8L-2x0MIwrz0evDD9ab1PBc_SjoHrZsEhriHrU3DdnrWczv9PznOJ4NrxW4vO9YwDjaRgXjOYCQdQQtdNf4HdBTKU_CXhRFJlF6YCr7CKnlJ0zAc3uuISrj2Pf_PQJSNxy-6YR_QTmOQuk5Jn3hkwfKzgx1HLHxPjVhmuonnXEOHWEpWkjcMJs7EykA8Lz2iFQTBgQO67FTNb3pIDYg=w1365-h625) lining the walls are enchanting figurines and various other statuettes. The most charming attributes of the room are the strings of [ fairy lights ](https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/proxy/0d-563NBCvJ4fmSHjarMZ-qMzm5cGP6sJL4CYZUlf9Wdxi6XAfFvodxnNk35IO5C7Hx6rz6qUOZe7MkII8Oe5fp02A5dQ65P7UQFQwOXLFwvobVUdgaT=w1365-h617) that hang from surface to surface, providing the only light in the room. Stepping further into the room, I reach out to brush my fingertips along the wall, a grin spreading across my lips. “Seba,” I breathe, “It’s beautiful.”

“I knew you’d love it.” He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. 

“Am I_ that _predictable?” I joke, turning in his arms. 

“Nope, I just know you_ that _well,” he replies, kissing my forehead. 

“Hmmm,” I hum, content to just let him hold me for a moment. Well, at least until somebody inevitably comes in. In three… two… 

“Miranda!” Tom blurts, rushing in, “There’s a call for you.”

“Of course there is,” I mutter, extracting myself form the embrace and walking back into the main room where my work phone is vibrating against the counter. Before I pick it up, I spot Chris leaning against the wall on his phone. “Chris?”

“Could I take this call in your room?” I ask, “Seb’s in mine and it’s work.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says with a smile. 

“Thanks,” I say before rushing to his room and easing the door shut behind me before pressing answer and holding the phone up to my ear. “Miranda Hartley, how can I help?”

“Miss Hartley, I’m so glad I got through to you. I called the office but they said you weren’t in.” a male voice asserts.

“I’m sorry, who am I speaking with?”

“Joshua Stewart, head of legal for of Crawford Inc.?” The tone he uses suggests that I should immediately know the name but it sounds only vaguely familiar. 

“Of course, Mr Stewart! What can I do for you?” I ask politely, taking a seat on Chris’ bed. 

“Well, Miss Hartley, we were recently alerted of a potential threat to our company and hold The Hub responsible. As of this moment we are considering a lawsuit to protect Crawford Inc.” 

“Okay,” I say, trying to remain calm though on the inside I am freaking out because I know where I’ve heard that company name. They’re a furniture company that have become famous for their low prices. Lindsey Corton, one of my best journalists, wrote a piece slating that company and they work they do. Apparently she found evidence that they’re prices are only as low as they are because they employ children in third world countries to manufacture. In shorter terms, they use child-labour. She actually won multiple awards for Best Investigative Journalism, and Crawford Inc. must have gotten wind of it. “Okay,” I repeat, “Would you please hold for a moment?”

“Of course,” he replies tersely. 

Putting the phone on mute and leaving it on the bedside table, I run into the main room where everyone is laughing and chatting. Seb looks up at me and frowns at the flustered expression I have on. “You okay?”

“No, not really. That was work. I’ll tell you all about it later but right now I need a notepad,” I say in a rush. Immediately Seb darts over to where our suitcases still sit by the door, throws his open and rifles through it before handing me a pad and a pen. “Thanks,” I kiss his cheek and rush back out again, going straight to the phone and un-muting it. “So, Mr Stewart, before we begin,” I say, sitting cross-legged on the floor with my pen and pad at the ready, “I’d like to inform you that this phone call is being recorded and will be shown to our Head of Legal.” At that point I press record on my phone and put it on speaker phone, allowing me to have it on the floor beside me as I write. 

“I would expect nothing less,” he replies. “Now, I have a number of concerns but I believe that if you address them for me now there won’t be any need for us to take legal action.”

“That’s good to hear,” I say in the monotone, professional manner I’ve been taught to use when addressing potential law suits. 

“To evade a lawsuit, we want you to, as well as take down the article, issue a public apology which highlights the untruth of the article.”

“Well,” I say, as though I’m considering his words when in reality we would never agree to such a thing. “Please do share your concerns and we can discuss the aforementioned terms of an agreement later.”

“Firstly, the basis on which you have written this article is complete falsification and the evidence you have provided is flimsy,” he begins. “Here in front of me I have a copy of the article and can see that Ms Corton has pulled up photographs supposedly showing our factory in the Philippines inhabited by mal-nourished young people.”

“Mr Stewart,” I interrupt, scribbling down; _ falsification, photos fake? Flimsy evidence. _ “Let me stop you there. I also have a copy of the article,” a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that seeing as I remember a few sentences from it, “and, to quote the last paragraph, ‘This conclusion has been drawn after careful analysis of statistics paired with genuine photographs and eye-witness accounts.’ Clearly, Mr Stewart, none of this is falsification so your grounds for a lawsuit are invalid.” 

“Oh, but Miss Hartley, you must be forgetting that, as well as having further grounds for a lawsuit, we have a powerful team of lawyers and we are prepared to do whatever it takes to have this article taken down.”

“And you, Mr Stewart, are forgetting that our lawyers are just as powerful, if not more, than yours, and this article has won us multiple awards. We are not going to just take it down and only delusion could cause you to believe that we would ever undermine the integrity of our company by publicly announcing that our journalism is false. That said, if you want to waste money and time trying to sue us, be my guest. Have good day.” with that, I hang up. The second I put the phone down I sigh and fall onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. There are now a million and one things I need to do with this. Obviously I need to speak to Avnish Patel, our Head of Legal, and our CEO, Aliyah Brooks. 

First, though, I want to finish my cup of tea. 

When I return to the main room everyone’s buzzing about something and as I sit between Chris and Seb, I ask what it is. 

“We’ve figured out what we want to do tonight,” Chris answers as Seb puts an arm around me, pulling me to his side. 

“And that is…?” I prompt. 

“Going on a pub-crawl,” Seb says with a grin. 

Okay, sue me, I burst out laughing. “A… pub crawl? What are we, twenty-four?”

“I actually am twenty-four,” Tom chips in, making everybody laugh. 

“Well you lot have fun with that,” I say, my smile betraying my humour at the idea, “I’m out.”

“Awww, no,” Mackie objects. “You have to come! It’ll be fun!

“Come on, kid, live a little,” Downey encourages. 

“Sorry guys,” I shake my head, “I’m gonna work tonight.”

“Uh, no,” Scarlett shuts down, “We are not letting you work on your first night in San Diego.”

“I’m not really getting a choice,” I explain, “We’re facing a lawsuit over the Crawford article and it needs to be dealt with.”

“You sure you can’t miss just a few hours to go drinking?” Seb wheedles. “You work harder than anyone I’ve met, surely you can take a night off?”

I shake my head vehemently, “I really can’t go out, and I definitely can’t get drunk. I need to be completely sober and alert in case they need me.”

“And there’s nothing we can say to convince you to go out?” Chris asks. 

“Nope,” I confirm, “Sorry, guys, next time.”

They all express their upset but go back to their conversations, leaving me to snuggle up to Sebastian and explain everything. “You know how Lindsey’s article won that award? Well the company she wrote it about got in touch just now and they’re threatening a lawsuit unless we take it down but if we do that we’ll lose a lot of money and respect from other journalistic companies.”

“Sounds bad,” he affirms, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I reply. He strokes my hair and I feel myself calming down, the knots in my muscles relaxing. 

So that’s why, a few hours later, I am alone in the suite, lying on my front on the floor with the couches pushed to the side of the room. Taking a sip from my glass of red wine, I examine the piles of papers haphazardly laid out before me as I type at my laptop. A strand of hair falls into my eyes and I tuck it back in, focusing on the email I’m drafting. 

To: [ PatelAvnish@hub.com ](mailto:PatelAvnish@hub.com) , [ BrooksAliyah@hub.com ](mailto:BrooksAliyah@hub.com) , [ CortonLindsey@hub.com ](mailto:CortonLindsey@hub.com)

From: [ HartleyMiranda@hub.com ](mailto:HartleyMiranda@hub.com)

Subject: Crawford Inc. Lawsuit

Dear All,

I just received a rather troubling call from the Head of Legal for Crawford Inc. 

They have multiple complaints about the article Lindsey wrote discussing the ethics of their company and the rumours of child-labour. You may recall that this article won us awards (well done again, Lindsey) for best investigative piece. 

Unfortunately, Mr Stewart, their HoL, is threatening a lawsuit unless we agree to take down the article and issue a public apology to include a segment on how our journalism is full of untruths. I listened to his concerns and he claims that the evidence that the article is based on is false. I dismissed that by quoting the last paragraph that confirms the truth behind the evidence but he tried to intimidate me by flaunting the supposed strength of his legal department. Of course I answered that in my own way and I will attach the recording so you, Avnish, can review it. 

Our leading concern of right now should be that, when speaking of his legal team, he also mentioned “further grounds for a lawsuit”. This may need to be looked at further because they may, although the chances are slim, have something solid against us. 

Aliyah, I know you prefer to stick with the bigger, more important problems and I completely respect that but I thought I should loop you in. Of course, I will deal with this with as little input from you as possible, but I may have to ask you for your advice. 

Avinish, I have 100% faith in you. I know that you will need to gather a team to deal with this and I only ask that you keep it small because I want to involve as little people as possible so as to avoid a panic. 

Lindsey, I felt that it was important that you were made aware of the situation but, again, I ask that you don’t tell anyone in the company of this situation.

I appreciate your support and cooperation in this matter. 

Kindest regards,

Miranda Hartley

COO & Chief Editor

  
  
  


After giving it a quick-proof read, I press send and open up a new document but, because I’m lazy, I open speech-to-text and press start. After rolling onto my back, I begin, “Crawford Inc. Notes, underline, newline, Harrison Crawford, dash, CEO, period, new line. Joshua Stewart, dash, head of legal, period, newline. Pause speech-to-text.” Groaning, I contemplate whether or not it’s worth getting up to get my notes or if I should just stay here and guess. Five minutes pass and I can feel the wine going to my head. I let out a little sigh and roll back onto my front to finish my notes. After pressing speech-to-text again, I continue, “Claims, colon, newline. Falsification, newline. Fake photos, question mark, newline. Other grounds, question mark, newline. Add when info comes, period, underline, caps-lock. Break speech. Share with Aliyah Brooks and Avnish Patel and Lindsey Corton.”

It’s at that moment that the door swings open. 

“HELLOOOOOO!” a very obviously drunk voice calls out. “MIRRRAAAANDAAAA!”

Sighing, I mutter, “End speech-to-text.” Not bothering to stand up, I take a long sip of wine and turn my head to the group. “Back so soon?”

“What d’ya mean, doll face?” Chris drawls. 

“It’s only been, what, three hours?” I answer, “How come your back?”

“Mackie’s drunk off his ass,” Seb answers, dropping down beside me. “Whatcha up to?”

“Work,” I sit up and run a hand through my hair, aware that I look like I just woke up in my grey tartan pyjama trousers and black tank top. 

“Yeah, well, if you’re bored of that, we’re going back out?” Scarlett prompts, nudging my knee with her toe. 

“Hmmm, yeah, no thanks,” I reply, dropping my head onto Seb’s shoulder. 

“Aww, come on,” Tom wheedles, sitting opposite me, “It’ll be fun.”

Downey doesn’t say anything but gives me a pointed look from his position on the sofa. 

“Guys,” I sigh, “I seriously would love to but it’s late, I’ve already had a few and I’m not even close to finished.”

“As you said, doll,” Seb says, “It’s late. Finish tomorrow, I’m taking you to bed.”

“Seba,” I whine as he pulls me up.

“Nope,” he cuts off, putting an arm around my shoulders, “We’re going to bed.”

“Just a little longer,” I whine. Then a loud yawn erupts from my lips and I giggle sheepishly. Shaking his head with an affectionate smile, he lifts me up and walks to our room, dropping me on the bed before shedding his shirt and going into the bathroom to change into his pyjama trousers. When he comes back in he shuts off the light and climbs into bed. He moves closer and curls around me in our usual embrace. It isn’t long until his soft breathing soothes me into sleep.


	5. Tea, Confessions and Footie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an intense night, Miranda is left feeling tense and anxious but finds solace in the most unlikely person.

The morning brings sunshine and light and, just for a moment, I completely forget that we’re facing a lawsuit. You know, until my phone starts ringing. Rolling out of bed, I grab my phone and go to the main room, thanking my lucky stars that everyone’s still asleep. After closing all the connecting doors, I press answer and hold the phone to my ear. 

“Miranda Hartley, how can I help?” I chirp, using my shoulder to clamp my phone to my cheek. 

“Miranda, I’m so glad your awake,” the slightly accented voice of my boss greets. “I got your email and thought we should discuss it.”

“Of course, of course,” I agree, “Though shouldn’t we conference call with Lindsey and Avnish?” 

“Not quite yet. I thought it best that we spoke first, you are my COO after all,” she says. She must be in the office because I can hear background noise of printers and the beeping of a fax machine. It’s surprising that she’s in on a Saturday, she’s one of the laziest people I know, though she does her best to pretend otherwise. 

“Aliyah…” I begin tentatively, “I know this is a big ask but I’m actually out of office for the next couple of days and I was hoping that maybe you or Avnish could take the lead on this one.”

“Miranda,” she tuts, “this is your job. I simply don’t have the time to be dealing with these matters so you must handle it.”

“Well…” I sigh, “Okay. Yeah, I’ll deal with it.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “Now, I need you to speak with both Lindsey and Avnish but I have to be somewhere so, as usual, send me an email once a week updating me on the situation.”

“Of course, goodbye Aliyah,” I say before hanging up and calling Lindsey. After just a few rings she picks up. 

“Lindsey Corton, how can I help?” she says, as chirpy as always. 

“Hi, it’s Miranda,” I greet, “Did you see the email I sent you?”

“Oh… yeah,” she replies, her voice marginally less peppy. 

I sigh, using my right index finger to pick at my left thumbnail. “I’m really sorry about all this, Lindsey. This has nothing to do with the quality of the piece. In fact, you’re one of my best writers.”

“Thanks, Miranda,” she says. “It means a lot.”

“Hmm,” I hum, “Lindsey, listen, I just called to say tell you to just stay calm and don’t worry about it. I’ll fix everything, I promise. Oh, and I meant what I said, it would be really helpful if you kept this to yourself.”

“Of course, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I can’t help thinking that this is my fault.” 

“No! Lindsey, no. None of this is your fault. Just… get some rest and try not to think about it. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Okay, bye, Miranda. Thanks again.”

“Bye.” I end the call before scrolling through my contacts to find my HoL. This time it rings for about a minute before I get an answer. 

“Avnish Patel, how can I help?” he says in the monotonous tone that develops when you use the same greeting for five years. 

“Avnish, hi, it’s Miranda,” I say, sitting at a kitchen stool. “I just wanted to hear your initial thoughts on the situation I emailed you about.”

“Oh, you mean the email you sent at midnight last night?” he asks dryly, “I totally read that.”

“Look,” I say with a sigh, “I know it was late but it’s important.”

“Well if it’s important…” sarcasm drips from his voice and I grit my teeth.

“You know, Avnish,” I grind out, “this is what I pay you to do. So either you do your job or I’ll find someone else who will.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. 

“Excuse me?!” I stand up, suddenly furious. “I don’t know if you’re aware but I’m your boss. Which means that you do what I say, when I say. If I send you an email I expect you to read it.”

“Jesus, calm down,” he mumbles. 

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” I explode. “Not when it’s my neck on the line! Not when I’m facing a lawsuit! Not when my job is at stake! Let me ask you someth-”

I’m interrupted by a tentative knock on the bedroom hallway door, behind which Chris stands. “Oh God,” I murmur to myself, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Avnish, just read the email,” I demand before hanging up and collapsing on the couch, my head in my hands. A moment later Chris sits beside me but doesn’t say anything until eventually I mumble, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he replies, putting a hand on my back. “What happened?”

“Work happened,” I say simply. “Work and all my annoying colleagues and their annoying attitudes to doing the most basic things.”

He seemingly doesn't know how to respond to that so we lapse into silence again, him occasionally opening his mouth but closing it again. Until he opens it to actually say something. “Miranda, I think your dedication to your work is incredible but…”

“But… ?” I prompt when he doesn’t continue. 

“But you deserve a break every once in a while. If this Avnish guy is incompetent then that’s his fault, let _ him _take the blame.”

Turning to face him, I sit cross legged and definitively drop my hands into my lap. “You don’t get it,” I say, my voice showing no trace of accusation. “It’s hard. I’m basically running a company, my boss is useless, my colleagues don’t respect me and I work myself so hard that most days I don’t remember to sleep unless Seb reminds me.”

“Impossible,” he states. 

“What?”

“Impossible. It’s what you’re feeling,” he explains. 

“Impossible isn’t an emotion,” I counter. 

“Oh, but it is. It’s like you’re in this…this..._ loop _. You’re just a dot travelling infinitely in a loop. Things keep happening around you and all that stuff, all those problems, they just make the loop bigger, more infinite. It feels like the whole world is against you and it’s impossible for you to fight back or escape.”

“I… how… what?” I stutter, surprised. Surprised because he’s completely, totally, entirely _ right _. 

“I’ve been there, Miranda, I get it,” he says softly, taking one of my hands in both of his. 

“Yeah, well,” I let out a weak laugh, “Nothing I can do, right?”

“Of course there is!” he gives my hand a little squeeze. “Take a step back. Accept that things will go wrong and we just have to move on. Spend time with the people who care about you and your stress will just start to melt away.”

“Really?” I say, my voice full of hope. 

“I promise,” he says solemnly. 

“Thank you,” I whisper as morning light begins to envelop us in it’s warm hug. He just smiles at me before wrapping his arms around my petite figure and pulling me close to his chest. A few moments pass with nobody moving until a voice calls out softly, “Miranda?” 

Jumping away from Chris and standing up, I smile at Seb. “Morning,” I say casually. “Want some tea?”

“You sit, I’ll make it,” he replies.

“Thanks, Sebby. I’m gonna get changed, be back in a moment.” 

\-------------------------------

_ “Can I pause you for a moment?” she asks, peering at me over her half-moon glasses. _

_ “Um, sure,” I twiddle my thumbs in my lap and try not to look her directly in the eyes. _

_ “Well I have a few questions about this Chris character,” she explains, using obscene hand gestures to illustrate her point. _

_ “Okay?” _

_ “So it seems that you were more comfortable confiding in him than your best friend. Does that strike you as odd?” she probes, leaning forwards ever so slightly. _

_ “I don’t… I guess… no?” I stutter uncertainly. _

_ “Hmmm,” she hums, scribbling in my file. “Secondly,” she begins without looking up, “Why did you feel so at ease with him?” _

_ “I didn’t,” I state bluntly. _

_ Only then does she look up, putting her pen down. “What do you mean?” _

_ “I didn’t feel comfortable around him,” I repeat. _

_ “Yet you still confided in him?” she says, her voice lilting up at the end, turning it into a question. _

_ “The same way I do you, yes,” I reply. “I only told him things because he probed in the right way. I didn’t make the conscious decision to let him in, he just knew what to say to make me talk. The same way you do.” _

_ “Oh,” she says, seemingly pleased. “Thank you.” _

_ “That wasn’t a compliment,” I shoot back. _

\------------------------------------

I go to my room and look outside at the sun before deciding on a burgundy tank top with black denim shorts. I pair it with a simple necklace that’s made of black string and has a rose-quartz hanging at the end of it. When I come back in, everyone’s gathered in the main room, Scar and Mackie with cereal, Tom, Downey and Seb with a fry up, and Chris holding two mugs of tea, grinning at me. “Here you go, princess,” he says, coming over to me and handing me one of the mugs. With a grateful smile, I take a small sip. 

“Thanks,” I murmur, sitting down on a stool. 

From opposite me, Seb lifts his head and grins, “Guess what we’re doing today.”

“Um… going to London and changing the time on Big Ben?” I tease. 

“Nope, guess again,” he says, indulging in our usual game of ‘guess what’.

“Trying all the burger places in San Diego?” I reply, taking another sip of my sweet, pale tea. 

“That would be mighty fun,” he laughs, “but, alas, no.”

“Okay, okay… going on the world’s tallest roller-coaster?” I make one final guess. 

“Hell no!” Sam calls from the sofa, “No way in hell!” We all laugh but he just looks indignant until a small smile cracks his lip upwards. “Y'all can laugh all you want. I ain’t ashamed!”

“Good for you, honey,” I assure, trying, and failing, to suppress my laughter. 

“Anyway…” Seb diverts, “A picnic!”

“You what?” Chris garbles, the sound muffled by the pancakes stuffed in his mouth. 

“Bash has a weird love of picnics,” I explain. 

“Hey!” Seb object. “Your face is a weird love of picnics!”

“That doesn’t make even a little bit of sense,” Downey notes, “and I’m out. My friend Beth’s in town and she wants to get together for lunch.”

“Wait,” Scarlett interrupts, little Bethany Miller?” Downey nods and Scar smiles, “Right, I’m coming too and I’m dragging Tom along.”

“Huh? What?” Tom looks up from his phone at the mention of his name.

“We’re going to see an old friend and you’re coming,” Downey explains. 

“Can someone tell me why?” Tom asks.

Scarlett sighs dramatically as if the answer is obvious. “Because she’s your age and I’m bored. Time to bring out Cupid’s arrow. Let’s go, boys!” She pulls the others down the hall to get ready leaving just me, Chris, Seb and Mackie. 

Chris looks at me and I shrug, “Looks like it’s just us. So… picnic?”

“I’m in,” Mackie replies, dumping his bowl in the sink. 

“You better wash that,” I warn, “because I sure as hell am not going to do it for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, sliding it into the dishwasher. 

I turn to Chris, “You wanna come along?”

“Love to,” he smiles that cheeky little grin of his and I shake my head fondly. 

“Okay well while you lot get ready, I’ll make the picnic,” I suggest. 

“Perfect, doll, thanks,” Seb walks around the island and kisses my forehead before disappearing into the hall, the other following close behind. 

While they’re gone I put together the perfect picnic complete with each of our favourite foods. For Mackie, a rather odd chicken and rocket panini, for Chris, a quinoa bean salad, for Seba, a beef wrap and for myself, olives, feta and garlic bread. As well as that I throw in some other sides and snacks. Once they’re back I get Mackie to help me load it all into a basket before we head out of the door and pile into the rental car. We drive for about ten minutes before I realise something. “Guys?” I interrupt their conversation and turn around from my position in the passenger seat. 

“Yeah?” Chris asks, glancing at me momentarily before returning his attention to the road. 

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Picnic!” Seb shouts, poking his head between the two front seats. 

“Buddy, tryin’ to drive here,” Chris reminds him, turning left. 

“Right, sorry,” Seb apologises, ducking back to his seat. 

“Mir’s right,” Mackie states. “We don’t know where we’re going.”

“Of course we do,” Seb says confidently. “A picnic!”

“Yeah, we’ve established that,” I reply drily, “but where?”

“Um…” I seemed to have stumped him. “I don’t know.”

“Well maybe we should figure that out,” Chris points out, pulling over on a side road. 

“Miraaandaaaaa,” Seb whines. “Sort it oooouuuuut.”

“Dude,” Mackie laughs, “you sound like a five-year-old.”

“I’m used to it,” I say, making the others laugh as I pull out my phone. We all do a simultaneous search for parks near us. 

“Got one!” Chris announces. “It’s relatively empty, about ten minutes away.”

“Sounds good,” I agree, “Let’s go.”

Five minutes later we’re walking around a virtually deserted, but still beautiful, park, trying to find the perfect spot. After almost forty-five minutes without any luck, Mackie huffs and drops to the floor. “Here is _ fine _. I’m hungry and I want to eat food.” 

Shrugging, I set the basket down and pull out the tartan picnic blanket (as you may have guessed, I love tartan). Chris helps me lay it out and we sprawl across it.

“Pass me the wine,” I say to Mackie. When we’ve all got a full glass and food in our hands, we pick up a conversation. 

“So, Mackie, how’s the girlfriend?” Seb asks, taking a bite of his wrap. 

“Dude, what girlfriend?” Mackie responds. 

Immediately my ears prick up but Chris is quick to speak. “No, Miranda, no,” Chris shuts down, giving me a look.

“You don’t know what I was going to say!” I object, pouting. 

“Don’t I, Miranda? Don’t I?” he raises an eyebrow at me and I stick my tongue out in response. 

“He has a point,” Seb agrees. 

“Oi!” I jab him lightly in the side. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“And I usually am,” he says, sipping his wine, “but not when it comes to you attacking my boys with women.”

“Anyone else would appreciate that I’m trying to get you lot laid,” I grumble, leaning back against the tree trunk behind me. 

“We do appreciate it,” Chris says. “We just don’t want it.”

“I’m lost,” Mackie announces, throwing his hands up. 

“I’m gonna find you a girlfriend!” I state. 

“Uh, no,” he says. “I am the eternal bachelor.”

I scoff, “Okay, Mr Eternal Bachelor, the other day you told me you wanted to have kids.” The other two gasp and stare wide-eyed at Mackie.

“You want _ kids? _” Chris asks, leaning forwards. 

“Um, maybe…” he mumbles, eating his panini so he doesn’t have to reply. 

“Wait,” I say, confused, “Do you lot not want kids?”

“Well it’s not like I have anyone to have kids with,” Seb confesses, shrugging. 

“No offence, Seba, but I expected that from you, you’re too picky with your girls. But Chris, what?” 

“Surprisingly I do want to have kids,” he admits. “I know I’m late to the game but if I happen to find the right woman I’d love to start a family.”

“That’s exactly how I feel. Everyone’s saying that if I don’t get married soon then I’ll be past my prime,” I explain. “I just… I want to wait for _ the one, _ you know? After the whole Lautner thing I kinda thought to myself, there’s no point dating unless you _ know.” _

“So that’s why you haven’t been seeing anyone,” Seb says. 

“Well that and the lack of interested parties,” I tell him, shrugging. 

“Don’t do that,” Mackie says, rejoining the conversation. “Don’t act like there’s not a million guys who want to date you.”

“There’s not,” I say bluntly. 

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Chris looks baffled and I shrug again. 

“There’s nothing to see. Maybe the family’s right, maybe I am past my prime.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Seb declares. “Men literally stop in the street to stare at you.”

“You have to say that, you’re my best friend,” I point out. 

“I’m not,” Chris smiles, “and I agree with him. You’re completely and utterly gorgeous.”

“That’s just not true,” I insist. “Anyway, new topic.”

“But,” Seb starts. 

“Hey, honour the new topic,” I warn. 

‘New topic’ is a thing that we invented when we were 13, about the same time that we became interested in the opposite gender. It basically meant that if one of use said it we had to change the subject, no questions asked. 

Seb gives me a look but mercifully doesn’t continue the conversation. 

“Anyway,” I begin, “Let’s get back to Mackie’s situation.”

He looks up, startled and just the tiniest bit scared, “What? No!”

\------------------------

After about an hour of sitting and chatting, Chris jumps up. “Come on, people, up up up!”

“Why?” Seb asks, leaning back on his forearms with his legs stretched out in front of us. 

“Because why the hell not?” Chris counter, clapping his hands together with a ridiculous grin on his hands.

“The man makes a good point,” Mackie agrees. 

Standing beside Chris, I wince as he claps my shoulder. “Ow.”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologises, not sounding even the tiniest bit sorry. 

“Right, well I’m only getting up if it’s a good sport,” Seb tells us. 

“Lazy,” I tease, nudging him with my foot. 

“Call me what you want,” he says, “I ain’t ashamed, I got a six-pack.”

“And no girlfriend,” I shoot back. 

“By choice,” he points out. 

“Okay,” Mackie interrupts. “Enough of whatever the hell that was. What are we playing?”

“Footie?” I suggest. 

“What’s that?” Chris asks. 

“You don’t know what footie is?” I say incredulously. “Oh wait, yeah. You call it soccer right?”

“You mean we call it by its name?” Seb grins at me, knowing that this always gets me riled up. 

“There’s at least a thousand things wrong with that,” I begin. “Firstly, your stupid ‘american football’ doesn’t actually use your feet? _ Ours does! _Secondly, did football come from America? No! So it’s ‘actual name’ is football! Thirdly-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Chris stops me. “We get it. You are very proud of your Britishness.”

“Were you not listening _at all?_” I accuse, waving my hands in the air to make a point. 

“Uh… yeah?” he says uncertainly. When I glare at him he just laughs, shaking his head at me. 

“Ugh, whatever,” I grumble, “I put a football in the boot yesterday.”

“The boot?” Mckie asks. 

“The trunk,” Seb explains. 

“Nope! It’s the boot!” I claim loudly before walking back to the car. When I get there I realise that I’ve forgotten to get the keys so I go back with a sheepish smile on my face. Chris dangles the keys with a humorous grin. “Um… I forgot the keys,” I explain bashfully. He hands them to me and I thank him before running back to the car and grabbing the ball. On my way back I dribble the ball before kicking it hard at the tree behind Seb. 

“Oi!” he protests, sitting up and throwing the ball back at me. Laughing, I drop it by my feet and dribble across the park. Chris immediately runs at me and tries to tackle it into his possession but I dart out of the way and pass to Mackie who’s now on his feet. Seb begrudgingly stands also and we organise into two teams, me and Mack versus Seb and Chris. Two twigs mark a goal on one side and the other mirrors it. Once everyone’s in position, I stick two fingers in my mouth and let out a piercing whistle before hurtling towards the ball and pushing forwards towards the goal. Seb runs towards me and manages to steal the ball but Mackie intercepts it and passes to me so I can shoot. It flies between the twigs and we cheer, high-fiving before resetting the game. 

After almost three hours of a good kick-about, Mackie collapses on the floor dramatically. “I’m dying!” he proclaims, throwing his hands up. 

“You’re fine,” Chris says, whipping his shirt over his head and using it to wipe his sweat from his forehead. I can’t help but stare as a bead of sweat travels down his toned torso and disappears below his waistband. Seb coughs loudly and I look up to see him frowning in disapproval. Sticking my tongue out at him, I join Mackie on the grass. “What time is it?” I ask no-one in particular. 

“Uh, about three-thirty.” Mackie answers. 

“Shit!” I say, shooting up. 

“What?” Chris asks, sitting in front of me. 

“I only have four hours to get ready for tonight!” I reply, frenzied. 

“Four hours is ages,” Mackie says, giving me a look. 

“Yeah,” Seb agrees, “and you are so not the type to spend ages dolling yourself up.”

“I am when I have an ex-boyfriend to make jealous,” I reply, standing up and dragging them all with me. “We gotta get back.”

“I don’t mind going,” Chris says, “I have some auditions to prep for.”

Eventually we convince the other two and we begin the journey back.


	6. City Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Miranda prepares to see her ex-boyfriend, the nerves start to set in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is short as hell but I thought it was kinda sweet and would be better on it's own instead of with the rest of it. Enjoy. :)

Watching my reflection in the wood-framed mirror, I apply my mascara and dust my cheeks with a little blush. You may have noticed that I’m not one of those girls who wears a full-face of make-up, though I have nothing against them, but today is an important day. Today I make Taylor Lautner jealous. Of course that means that I’ve already picked out the perfect dress: a sleek dark blue number paired with light diamond jewellery and black high heels. I’d left my hair in its usual waterfall down my back because Seb said it looked better like that and I’m not going to question my best friend. Just as I was smearing on dark lipstick, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” I call, not looking up. 

The door swings open and somebody lets out a low whistle, at which point I look up and smile at Seb. “You look incredible,” he compliments, taking my hand and twirling me in a small circle. 

“Thank you. You don’t look to bad yourself.” I’m lying, he looks amazing in a crisp navy tux, his hair in a low bun. He grins at me before sitting on the bed. 

“We look like a matching couple,” he observes as I laugh. 

“And what’s so bad about that? You’d be lucky to date me,” I tease.

“Yeah, yeah. So we’re making him jealous tonight?” he asks as I turn back to the mirror. 

“Yep,” I answer, running a hand through my hair and twisting this way and that. He doesn’t say anything further until I disappear into the bathroom to grab my tweezers. Through the door, he says, “Aren’t you worried he’s met someone?”

My body freezes for a moment but I quickly regain my composure and come back into the room, shrugging. “It’s a possibility, I guess,” I allow.

He stares at me for a second before leaving to ‘check on some arrangements’. Once he’s gone, I finish up my make-up and stride into the main room, where Chris stands alone, looking out of the windows. Moving beside him, I gaze at the city below. 

Twinkling lights illuminate the mist that surrounds everything, making it feel strangely desolate. Clouds swarm the moon like moths to a flame and the moon’s soft glow passes through them casting a ghostly light. 

“Hey,” Chris greets without turning around. 

“Hi,” I reply reaching down to squeeze his hand once.

“Isn’t it just so calming?” he asks.

“The view’s beautiful,” I breathe. 

He looks at me and smiles. “It’s spectacular. You look gorgeous, Miranda.”

“Thank you. I must say, you clean up nicely,” I praise, looking over his smart black tux. His hair’s slicked back with enough gel to be firm but not enough that it looks oily or sticky. 

“Thanks,” he says. The conversation reaches standstill until breaks the silence. “So, you nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? Never!” I joke, causing him to roll his eyes, smiling. “But yeah,” I say, a tad more serious. “I’m a little nervous. I kinda just realised that he might be with someone after all this time. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?” I muse. 

“You shouldn’t worry about stuff like that,” he claims, leaning against the wall and staring at me with an intensity that makes my insides melt in a way that I haven’t felt since Taylor. _ Snap out of it, Miranda, _I scold myself, glancing away from him though my eyes inevitably wander back to meet his. 

“Hard not to,” I reply, looking away again, out at the buildings that line the skyline. Sighing, I lean my forehead against the glass and let my vision blur until the streetlamps haze into circles of light. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the silence. 

“Me too.”


	7. The Pull Of Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two years, have they learned how to act around each other or are they still dancing around the point?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, things are hotting up now!

The room is almost fully packed and is filled with elegant women hanging off the arms of smart gentlemen. Feeling suddenly small, I shrink into Sebastian’s side and smile up at him when his arm goes around my waist. The rest of the gang stands with us as we enter. Scarlett’s wearing a long black dress that accentuates her curves. Tom, Downey and Mackie look dashing in their tuxes and Chris, well Chris looks edible, so much so that I have to keep reminding myself to stop staring. 

A waiter walks over with a tray of champagnes and I take two flutes, one for me and one for Seb, before we stride forwards to hand our coats in. On the left is a wall of overly elegant sofas and on the right is a snazzy bar. What I don’t see, though, is how this is making any money for charity. Leaning over to Chris, I whisper, “Remind me how this is a fundraiser?”

“You see the guys wearing grey suits?” he asks, discreetly pointing to one by the bar. “They go around with these little books and guilt trip you into donating a ridiculous amount of money to whatever the cause is.”

“Oh,” I say for lack of anything else. “Fun.”

“No,” he says laughing. “These things are never fun.”

I take a long sip of champagne and Chris laughs again. A low, gravelly, sexy sound that reverberates around the room.  _ Oh, God, seriously Miranda!  _ Shaking my head to rid myself of the thoughts, I extract myself from Seb and go to the bar. Setting down my champagne, I turn around and lean back against the counter top, scanning the room. 

Almost immediately I spot Lautner. Well the back of him anyway. Cocking my head to the left, I examine him.  _ He’s had a haircut,  _ I note,  _ it looks annoyingly good.  _ Sighing, I tilt my head up to the ceiling just so that I’m not looking at him anymore. Feeling the presence of somebody beside me, I straighten up and turn to face the twenty-something young man. Cocking an eyebrow, I say, “Can I help you?” 

“Uh… n...no, I’m f...f...fine,” he stutters. 

“Okay?” I turn back to glaring at Lautner’s back until the man starts talking again. 

“Uh, actually, I, um, I just wanted to say that you’re, um, you’re really pretty,” he chokes out, turning beet red. 

“Oh,” I say, a smile forming on my lips, “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” he tells me, his confidence growing. 

“Well aren’t you a charming young man,” I reply. “I’m Miranda Hartley,” I hold out my hand. 

“Mike Terrence,” he greets, shaking my hand.

“And I,” another voice cuts in, “am Sebastian Stan, her best friend.”

“Wait,  _ the  _ Sebastian Stan?” Mike asks, his attention successfully diverted from me. 

I glare hard at Seb. I know his game, it’s been going on since I got my first boyfriend back when I was 15. He goes all protective big brother the second a guy looks at me with even a hint of interest. 

“The one and only,” he says, pulling me into his side. “So what do you want with Mir?”

“Seb!” I say, shocked. “What’s you’re problem?”

“Just looking out for you, sweetheart,” he replies with a wink.

“Uh, no,” I shake my head. “None of that.” 

“I should… I should be going,” Mike dismisses himself and scurries away. 

The second he’s gone I turn to Seb with a scowl. “What the hell was that?”

“He was looking at you funny,” he explains, lifting a shoulder. 

“No. Not okay,” I shut down, moving away from him. “He was cute and you scared him away.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” As if sensing that I’m about to kill him, he grins and saunters away to talk to Ed Westwick. 

“Ugh!” I exclaim, frustrated beyond belief. Not with Sebastian, though, more with my life in general. Decidedly done with this fundraiser, I bring the flute to my lips and chug the rest of my drink. 

“Woah there,” a horrifically familiar voice says, causing me to choke on my drink. Setting it down, I cough loudly and gasp for air, doubling over and coughing some more. Tears spring to my eyes as I struggle to breathe. The person pats my back and eventually I regain my composure and wipe my eyes. “You okay?” Taylor asks.

“Fine,” I reply tersely, finally looking at him and, my God, I can’t stop looking. His eye are as bright as the day I met him and his smile could win awards. Everything inside me melts and I can feel a wanton desire pulling at me….

Until I see  _ her.  _ A tall, slender blonde woman with hair that bounces effortlessly around her shoulders and soft almond eyes. It’s such a goddamn cliche that I want to punch him for being so predictable but, at the same time, I feel jealousy already settling in the pit of my stomach. 

“It’s good to see you,” he says eventually, his hand locked with hers. 

“I wish I could say the same,” I retort, taking a step back. 

He sighs, “Miranda, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left things the way I did and I’m sorry. But it was a long time ago. You need to move on.”

I look at him with disbelief that quickly dissolves into disgust. “Well you certainly did.”

“What?” he says, momentarily confused until Blondie coughs beside him. “Oh… yeah. Miranda, I’d like you to meet Verity, my girlfriend.”

As much as I want to hate this girl, I mostly just feel sorry for her. She has no idea how horrible her boyfriend is. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say politely, shaking her hand. 

“You as well,” she replies, her voice soft and slightly accented. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh really?” I raise an eyebrow and give Lautner, who has gone bright red, a pointed look. 

“Uh huh,” she says, smiling. 

“So anyway,” Taylor quickly interrupts, “How are you, Miranda?”

“Fine,” I lie, accompanying it with a fake smile.

“How’s work?” he probes, leaning forwards slightly. 

“Amazing,” I reply, “I recently got promoted to COO actually.”

“Oh, that’s great,” he says, making me instantly suspicious though I don’t detect any sarcasm. 

“Yeah, it is,” I say cautiously. 

“Have you… have you found someone yet?” Boom. There it is. The  _ I have a girlfriend but your still sad and lonely  _ brag _ .  _

“Oh, I g...guess th...that,” I stutter. Heat is creeping up my neck and into my cheeks and my brain is screaming _WARNING! WARNING! _Feeling panicked, I choke out, “I h...hav-”

Suddenly two arms snake around my hips and a low voice drawls, “She has, actually.” Frozen to the spot, I do nothing to stop the events as they unfold. “Hi, my name’s Chris Evans, Miranda’s boyfriend.”


	8. Notice - Please Read

Hi there guys,

This isn't something I'd ever thought that I'd have to write but it seems that people don't understand the concept of plagiarism. Everything I post is my own work and my original concepts that I come up with. It is deeply, deeply upsetting when somebody re-posts my work. It takes me valuable time to write this stuff and I do not appreciate other people copying and pasting my work into their own profile's. It's my hard work, time and effort and it should have my name on it. 

I'm asking nicely before I start to get angry,   
_Please do not re-post my work. _

**On a happier note...**

I'd like to thank every one of you for taking the time to read this, it means a lot to me. 

Please do comment, I love hearing what you guys think.

If you have a request for my next stories, comment it below and I'll try my best.

The next chapter should be up by the end of the day! 

-Cece <3


	9. Liar, Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda has to roll with the punches when Chris steps in to help out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, guys, but it's here now and I made it extra long. I can't lie, this series has become an escape for me and I'm loving writing it. I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I am!

_ “So he just stepped in? Unprompted?” she asks. _

_ “No,” I say sarcastically. “We discussed it while I was in the bathroom earlier.” _

_ “No need to be snippy,” she says, annoyingly calm as usual. _

_ The fury bubbles inside me before I can stop it. “No need to be snippy? _ _ No need to be snippy?! _ _ I’m sorry, did _ _ you _ _ lose everyone _ _ you _ _ care about in the span of one day? Did _ _ your _ _ life crumble around you? This is ridiculous. I am not going to pay for you to sit there and act like you’re better than me. You are not better than me. Good day.” _

_ Without another word, I stand, grabbing my bag, and storm out of the building. Only when I’m in the car do I let myself cry. I choke out sobs that wreck through my body with great shudders as the broken pieces of my heart scratch at my chest. It hurts. Hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I was betrayed by the person I love most and pain like that never fades. _

_ ************************************** _

The noise continues around us but our little group of four is weighted with silence. Each person looks at another in turn in a way that’s almost comical. Eventually Lautner speaks, “Mir, is this for real?”

“Firstly,” I begin, “you’ve lost the right to call me that. Secondly, what? You don’t think I’m good enough for him? Of course it’s for real. You’re not the only one who can move on. Chris and I are very happy together.” _ Oh God, was that lie convincing enough? I’m really bad at this. _

Luckily Chris is there to support me and he laces one of his hands with mine. “So happy. How could you not be when you’re as in love as we are?” he smiles at me. _ Wait, what? We’re in love now?! _

“In love?” Lautner voices what I’m thinking in a way that’s almost unnerving. 

“Completely and utterly,” I reply, through clenched teeth. Luckily he doesn’t comment on it and instead just shrugs. 

“Do your friends know you’re together?” he probes, his eyes narrowing, though whether in curiosity or malice I do not know. 

“No,” Chris replies hurriedly, “but we’re planning on telling them tonight.”

“We thought it would be more special,” I continue. “And this way the press will already be here instead of them coming to the hotel.”

“Good point, sweetheart, I didn’t think of that,” Chris rests his chin atop my head and I fight the impulse to knock it off. _ Sweetheart. Hmm, it has a nice ring to it. Sweetheart, sweetie, honey… _

I’m so busy reciting pet names in my head that I don’t realise that the conversation is still going on until Verity and Taylor walk away, muttering between themselves. 

Turning in Chris’s arms to face him, I find myself speechless. He looks at me expectantly and I open my mouth but no words come out. _ Say something you idiot! Literally anything will do! Just move your lips and make words come out! _Alas, I can’t summon my voice so I just stand there, staring at him, trying to puzzle him out. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out eventually. “I shouldn’t have stepped in like that but you just looked like you needed help.”

Insanely, I start to laugh. A manic, joyful sound that I haven’t heard in years. At first I’m not even aware it’s me, not until he joins in. Together we sink into the humour of it all, clutching our sides and desperately trying to regain our composure.

“Why the hell are you sorry?!” I exclaim, pulling him into a hug. “You are brilliant. You’re the most amazing man I have ever met. Thank you!” When I let go he is grinning at me and I beam right back. “Oh God, did you see her?!”

“Could he _ be _ any more of a cliche?” he says as we start to walk back to the group who are gathered on one of the sofas. “She’s blonde, foreign, slim. Where’s the imagination?”

“I know right!” We peel into laughter again and I have to clutch his arm to keep from toppling over. Just before we reach them, Chris grabs my arm and spins me towards him. Not missing a beat, he presses his lips hard against mine. Letting out a surprised squeal, I go to pull away but he places his hands on my hips, keeping me in place. There’s no point in denying it, it feels good to have his soft lips moving against mine but after a moment he pulls away. I spare a glance at the group and see Seb looking utterly baffled and another emotion I can’t quite identify. 

“Miranda,” Seb immediately stands and walks over, “What’s going on?”

Choosing to ignore the question, I take Chris’ hand and lead him a few steps away. “What the hell was that?” I hiss, flustered and red. 

“You heard Lautner, he wants to meet your friends later on,” actually I did not hear that, but okay. “We need to make sure that they think we’re dating so he doesn’t find out it’s a lie.”

“Oh, um… okay,” I agree hesitantly. “Let’s do it.”

“Don’t stress yourself out, Mir,” he says. “You just made your ex-boyfriend jealous!”

“I did, didn’t I?” I smile, proud of myself and him. 

“You totally did,” he encourages. 

“Oh my God, I did!” I exclaim, bouncing on my feet. “I’m so happy I could kiss you!”

Admittedly not the best choice of words, especially since he then pecks my lips and simply shrugs afterwards. “Gotta be convincing,” he winks and I shake my head fondly before we go back to our friends. 

“We have an announcement!” I claim before they can speak, throwing my hands up in the air, drunk on triumph and reeling from shock. 

“Okay…?” Mackie says uncertainty, looking between the two of us with obvious concern. 

Chris turns to me and grins. “Do you wanna say it or should I?”

“Hmmm,” I hum, “you should!”

“What’s up guys?” Scarlett questions. 

“Miranda and I are dating!” Chris declares, throwing an arm around me and pulling me close to his side. From there time sped up as they processed the news. Tom cheered, Downey smiled and Mackie and Scarlett were confused but happy. Sebastian was frozen, staring at me with shock and… betrayal? _ Why would he feel betrayed? Surely he knows it’s a lie? _

Maybe now’s a good time to explain something about me. I’m not _ normal. _ And I know you’re probably going to come up with a bunch of deep arguments to that like _ well what is normal? _ Normal is like everybody else and I am certainly not that. In a lot of books characters will say, _ I get lost in my own head, _but it’s not like that. My mind is this jumble of ideas and thoughts that move around each other and every time one collides with another a new thought emerges, pulling me of course and leading to another never-ending thread of stories that have to be told and questions that have to be answered. They never do get told or answered, of course, because as soon as I start to think about a thread, it’ll split and I’m lead down another branch. A perpetual journey, one might call it. So no, I’m don’t get lost in my own head, I just keep re-inventing alternate routes of thoughts. I’m probably crazy, it probably makes no sense to you, but that’s me and it’s incomprehensibly important for me to pull myself back into reality because if I don’t I really will go insane. 

So that’s what I do now, anchor myself back into the moment and rejoin the present. “When did this happen?” Mackie asks as Chris and I sit side by side on the sofa. 

“Um, you wanna answer that darling?” I divert the attention to Chris who widens his eyes slightly. 

“Hmm, it’s been maybe 8 months?” he lies, squeezing my hand lightly. 

“That long, huh?” Scarlett says, raising an eyebrow at me. “How’d you manage to keep it a secret for so long?”

“Oh, well it was hard, I guess. I mean, we couldn’t see each other as much as I would’ve liked,” I explain. “I missed him like hell most of the time.”

“Not as much as I missed you,” Chris interjects, causing the others to make kissy noises at us. Sebastian, though, stays silent. “Seb, you okay, man?”

“One thing,” he says, ignoring Chris’ question. “Chris, if you’re really dating Miranda you’ll know her favourite thing to do on a Saturday night. 

_ Oh, crap! There’s no way he’ll no that! _I shoot him a panicked look but he just smirks. “Mir has one of the strangest Saturday night rituals. She’ll lie in bed with her glass of red and a bowl of Nutella popcorn, and she’ll binge gossip girl.”

_ Okay, how the hell did he know that?! _Seb’s confidence falters for a split second but he quickly regains it and eyes Chris with suspicion. 

\------------------

The rest of the night drags on, slow and dull, until around midnight when we’re finally permitted to leave. As I rush around to grab all of my stuff, Sebastian, who has remained silent most of the night, catches up with me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks. 

“Of course,” I reply with a smile. After I’ve got my coat we head off to the side. He leans his side against the wall and fixes me with a stern look. Not one to back down, I match his stare and lift one eyebrow. “So…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he blurts out all out once before his face floods crimson. 

“Wait, what?” I shake my head, confused. 

Suddenly he pushes off the wall and runs a hand through his hair, his eyes wild and frenzied. “8 months? God, Miranda, we’ve known each other for _ 26 _ years! How could you not have told me? Are we not as close any more? Do you have other secrets. Oh God, I honestly don’t know how to handle this, you’ve _ never _ kept _ anything _from me!” 

“Seba,” I say softly, placing a hand on his arm, “Breathe.” I wait until he’s taken a few even breaths before continuing, “I’m not in love with Chris. Hell, I’m not even dating him.”

“Huh?” He looks more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him. 

“We made it up,” I explain. “Taylor was parading his new girlfriend and he asked me if I was seeing anybody and Chris was just there.”

“Why didn’t you ask me to do it?” he asks finally. 

“It wasn’t planned. I was in a situation and he stepped in. It was honestly quite sweet of him…” I trail off, realising, probably for the first time, that he didn’t _ have _to do that. He could’ve just let me embarrass myself but no, he jumped in and helped me. God, what a saint. 

“Miranda? You okay?” Seb waves a hand in front of my face. 

“Hi, sorry, yeah,” I shake my head slightly and smile at him. “I can’t believe you thought we were dating. I would _ never _keep something like that from you, doofus.” He rolls his eyes affectionately at me and I ruffle his hair. “Right, you, we’d better be getting back to the others.”

“Okay,” he loops an arm around my shoulders and together we head outside and pile into the car where everyone else is already waiting. I end up in the passenger seat, beside Chris, the designated driver for today. 

“Hey, girlfriend” he says with a wink.

“Hey, boyfriend,” I reply, chancing a grin. He returns it with his own and I find my cheeks warming. _ God, Miranda, pull yourself together! One smile ad you melt! Wait, do you think he’s noticed? Oh hell! I bet you he has! With my luck its certain! What if he thinks I’m a freak? _

“You okay, sweetheart?” Chris bursts my inward bubble and I cut my gaze to him with a small smile. 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that today?” I ask softly, trying to re-focus on this moment. 

“Uh, maybe because you’re voice has gone all soft?” he suggests, placing a hand on my thigh and tracing circles with his thumb. “Something wrong?”

“No, I’m… I’m fine,” I answer, turning again to look out of the window. Fortunately he doesn’t question me further, leaving me free to ponder life. So that’s what I do for the hour it takes us to drive back. When we get there Chris, ever the gentlemen, walks around the car to open my door for me. Nodding my head in thanks, I climb out and head straight to the room, to exhausted to wait for the others to catch up. I leave the front door open and go to my room, changing into my pyjamas and climbing into bed to wait for Seb so we can chat. So it comes as a shock when Chris walks in wearing only sweats, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“Hey?” I question. 

“Uh, since we’re ‘dating’, everyone thought Seb and I should switch rooms,” he explains. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!” I exclaim, inwardly ecstatic. “As long as you don’t snore I’m good.”

He chuckles and climbs into bed beside me, leaving a respectful gap between us. Leaning over him, I switch off the lamp and settle down for the night. 

“Goodnight, Chris,” I whisper into the darkness. 

“Goodnight sweetheart.”


	10. Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Miranda shares a difficult truth, Chris is there to comfort her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, guys, I'm exhausted right now. I didn't sleep trying to finish this chapter and I've finally got it done. I'm seriously loving this series and I hope you guys are to.

“I love you.”

Those are the three words I wake up to, whispered into the morning. Cracking an eye open, I see Chris sitting against the headboard beside me, idly stroking my hair and reading from a sheet of paper. Not wanting him to know I’m awake, I close my eyes again and shuffle slightly closer. 

“I love you too much to ask you to stay. You see, my love, you weren’t happy, and who cares how content I was when your suffering grew with every day that you spent in my arms. You’re… you’re like a dove. Maybe my love was enough to keep you here for a while but the second it wasn’t it’s… selfish to make you stay. Some people would ignore you’re pleas, they would tape your wings to your sides and stop you from flying. But I can see the despair in your eyes through the smile on your lips, I can see how it keeps you awake at night and I can’t do that to you. So, my darling, I’m telling you to _ fly. _ Spread your wings and soar, but just know that wherever you go, whoever you end up with, _ I love you.” _

His voice is melodic and beautiful and it pulls me into a trance that doesn’t break, not even when he stops speaking. Not even when he lets out a soft laugh. 

“I know you’re awake, Miranda,” he murmurs, ducking down to kiss my forehead. Opening my eyes, I look up at him, sheepishly, and rest my cheek on his chest. 

“That was beautiful,” I compliment truthfully. “Where’s it from?”

“I’m auditioning for a movie set in the 40’s. I was just reading through the monologue. Can I be honest?” he asks, to which I nod. “I wasn’t planning on auditioning when Fiona first mentioned it but I read it through and the main character, Anna her name is, reminds me of someone I know.” he tells me, lying down and resting his head against mine as we stare up at the same spot on the ceiling and somehow this is more intimate than eye-contact. Anybody can look at you, it's quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see. 

“Who?” I breathe, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from his lips.

“You.” 

Silence is golden when you can’t think of a good answer. My cheeks heat up and I can’t suppress the smile that pulls at my lips. “Aren’t you just one.” I say, laughter in my voice. 

“One what?” he asks, moving to touch my hair again. 

“Just one,” I answer, turning to face him. “I have a question for you.” 

He raises an amused eyebrow. “What kind of question?”

“A question,” I say, blowing a piece of hair from my eyes. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, tapping his chin in mock thought. “I have a proposal.”

“Wait,” I object. “What about my question?”

“I’m getting to that, sweetheart,” and I hate the way my heart jumps at the pet-name. “I read this book in high school, John Green I think it was…?”

My eyes brighten and I exclaim, “No way! I love John Green! Isn’t he just so amazing? He just has this insight to the world that's so inspirational. Well, actually, it’s not, it’s quite depressing really. Oh, you know what I mean!” Excitement consumes me as I realise that we have something in common. Almost immediately I feel stupid for getting so worked up over something so small and mentally fold into myself, as I do so often these days. 

Chris’ eyebrows furrow as though he can somehow see my inner turmoil, which maybe he can. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Miranda, in through the nose and out through the mouth,” he murmurs, resuming stroking my hair. I do as he says and continue on like that until I no longer feel trapped inside myself. “You okay now?” he asks. Waiting until I nod until he continues. “So in this book, the guy, Will, and a girl, Jane, have ten minutes of total honesty. I was wondering if you would maybe want to do that?”

“That… that sounds nice,” I agree, tilting my eyes up towards him, meaning our lips are centimetres apart. 

“Okay!” he grins, elated, and I smile simply because a joyful Chris is a five-year-old on Christmas day. 

“Okay,” I say in answer. “Me first?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why,” my voice comes out croaky and I cough to fix it. “Why do you keep touching my hair?” He looks momentarily stunned and I quickly add, “Not that I don’t like it… because I do. Just… why?”

Chris takes a deep breath and lets it out with his cheeks puffed. “Right, well this has a story.”

“I got all the time in the world.”

He laughs, the same sexy sound I’d craved since I'd first heard it. “Alright then. Do you by any chance remember what we were both doing when we first met?”

“I came to watch Seb on set.” I answer, maybe a little too quickly. 

“Okay,” he says, “good. What else?”

“Um…” I frown, unable to bring that memory to mind. 

“What were _ you _doing?” he asks. 

“Hmmm. Was it May… 9th?” He nods. “Okay, I well my birthday would’ve been like, what, four days after that? I’m assuming I didn’t want any work left over so was I… writing in my notebook?” I guess. 

“You were writing in your notebook,” he confirms, nodding. 

“What has that got to do with my hair?” I ask, supremely confused. 

“Well that was the first time I’d ever seen you and there were no more chairs so you were sat on the floor at the back of the studio, hunched over this notebook, scribbling like the world was about to end,” he tells me, and suddenly there I am, writing about God knows what, too absorbed in my article to be aware of anything going on around me. Though I’m still not sure how this sparked the hair thing, it’s not like I looked particularly attractive bundled into ‘comfort clothes’ that bore a striking resemblance to pyjamas, wearing no make-up, my hair a mess around my head. As if sensing this, he continues, “It wasn’t that you looked extra pretty that day… you just looked so _ natural, _ so in your element, so relaxed.” My brain is only now comprehending that he just called me pretty, sending me spinning. “I will never forget,” he continues, oblivious to my internal freak-out, “I will never forget how you hair was just… _ everywhere. _ On your shoulders, down your back, in your eyes. It sounds stupid but I wanted to run over and brush it all out of the way and run my fingers through it because, yeah, it was huge, but it looked so _ silky.” _

I laugh, “So it was a mess but was still soft?”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, and I laugh again. “So now whenever I get the chance I touch it.”

“You’re crazy,” I tell him with an affectionate grin. 

“I know,” he admits, with that half-smile that makes me want to devour him. “But that’s not the point, my question.”

“Time?” I ask. 

He checks the bedside clock. “Seven minutes. Okay, I’ve always wanted to know why you chew on your lip when you’re happy or laughing.”

For a moment, I’m shocked. “Do I do that?”

He chuckles and nods, “For as long as I’ve known you.”

“Oh,” I say, genuinely surprised that he picked up on a habit I wasn’t even aware that I had. “Okay, well, firstly, I’m gonna guess here. Secondly, the reason’s not as hilarious or cute as you’d think it would be.” At that his face grows immediately solemn and I smile, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. _ Oh my God, I do! _“Right, well I don’t know if Seb’s told you this but my dad died of heart disease and my mum was so sucked into her grief that she committed suicide shortly after. I was six and I came home to see her body hanging from a hanger in her wardrobe.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice holds more sincerity than I’ve ever heard someone use when replying like that. 

“It’s fine,” I say automatically before back-peddling. “Well, no, it’s not, it was actually amazingly traumatic. Anyway, I didn’t really understand what was going on, I mean, I was young. But then high-school came and, with it, mental health awareness. That was when I really started to understand and I just felt so awful for my mother. Every time I laughed or smiled I felt guilty because she couldn’t do either anymore… so I bit down on my lip to stop myself from smiling.” I shrug, though I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes so I look down to hide my face. Then I feel soft skin graze my cheek and when I look up he cups my cheek with his hand, his eyes searching mine. The action is so tender and sweet that the tears start to flow. Immediately he wipes them away with his thumb, all the while staring at me with those insanely blue eyes. Blue eyes up close are a celestial phenomenon: nebulae as seen through telescopes, the light of unnamed stars diffused through dusts and elements and endlessness. Layers of light. Blue eyes are starlight and I could stare at his forever. 

“Miranda,” he whispers, “you should never, ever stop yourself from being happy.”

“Why?” I ask before I can think better of it. 

“Why? Because your smile is the most beautiful thing on this Earth. Forgive me for being cheesy here,” he says, “but you’re smile is like summer moonlight; beautiful and magical, with a fire that could melt the night.”

“You’re right, that was cheesy,” I reply, hiding the fact that his words are setting me on fire.

“Yeah, I know,” he grins boyishly. “I stole it from a movie.” 

I laugh loudly and his grin grows. 

“Did you hear that?” he makes a show of cocking his head. 

“Hear what?” I ask, confused. I hadn’t heard anything. 

“Your laughter,” he answers. “Again, sorry for the cheese, but every time I hear that laugh my day gets just the tiniest bit better. It’s... _silk_ in a sea of silence and it’s so... _captivating_. I want to find whatever made you laugh and put it in a bottle so I can show you it when you feels scared or anxious. Don’t ever hide your laughter.” He grows suddenly solemn, “Miranda, _ promise me _.”

“What?” I say, a nervous laugh escaping despite myself at his sincerity. 

“Promise me that you won’t ever hide your laughter,” he repeats, taking both of his hands in mine. His gaze made me feel exposed, but in the most wonderful way. I _ wanted _to be vulnerable with him, I wanted to be open. 

“I promise.”


	11. Aunt In A Million

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda finally has some time to herself and is looking forward to a day of relaxation... but then Aunt Caroline calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short guys, I just wrote it in a sub class today and I thought it was a good place to pause. Again, not proof read, none of it ever is.

It’s a relief to be back home on Monday morning after the hectic weekend. I was supposed to be going in to work in an hour but I’d called in sick because I figured that I deserved a day to myself, curled up in bed with my wine and nutella popcorn, reading a book. 

As for Chris and I, we’re planning to tell the guys that it was made up whenever we next see them and on the rare chance that Lautner asks, we’ll just tell him that we broke up or something. For now, though, I get to sit back, relax, and read. 

Just as I’m settling into  _ Pride and Prejudice  _ for the 100th time, my phone rings and I sigh, putting down my book. “You just couldn’t let me have my peace, could you, universe?” I say aloud as I crawl across the bed to grab my cell-phone. When I see my aunt’s caller ID, I half smile half groan, you’ll see why in a second. “Hi, Carol, how are you?”

“Morning, darling,” she chirps, happy as always. “I have some great news!”

“What is it?” I ask carefully, fearing the worst being a natural instinct when it comes to her. 

“Your cousin Linda’s engaged!” she announces, and I can practically hear her throwing her hands in the air. “Finally!”

“Good for her!” I exclaim with as much enthusiasm as possible. “Gary?”

“Yuh huh,” she confirms, seemingly distracted by something. 

“You okay?” I ask, fiddling with the hem of Seb’s shirt that I stole a while back. 

“Yeah, I’m just,” paper rustles in the background before she speaks again. “I’m just sorting out the invites. That Taylor boy’s already RSVP’d.”

My blood turns cold. “What?”

“Taylor… Lautner?” I ask, a quiver in my voice as I’m forced to sit down. “My ex?”

“Yeah! Oh I loved that boy!” she claims, a wistful sigh in her voice. “I’ll never understand why you two couldn’t work it out.”

And that’s Aunt Caroline. The entire family were enamoured with Taylor and even went as far as making a wedding scrapbook. They were devastated when I told them that we were over and even more so when I refused to tell them how it had happened. 

With fists clenched at my sides, I clench my jaw. “Aunt Carol,” I grind out. “I… you… he....” 

I sigh and my whole body relaxes as an idea pops into my head. “Can I bring a date?”

Immediately she goes into excited Aunt mode, her voice charged. “A date?!” she screeches, causing me to pull the phone away from my ear. “Miranda Hartely, you have a boyfriend and you didn’t  _ tell me?!” _

“I, um, yeah?” I stutter, already regretting how I broke the news. 

“Did Sebastian finally ask you out?” she asks randomly. 

“What?” I say with a laugh. “No! I… I’m going out with his friend Chris.”

“Wait,” she squeals, her voice growing in pitch. “ _ The Chris Evans?”  _

“Maybe?” I nibble on my bottom lip. “Is that… okay?”

The worst sound of my childhood, my Aunt tutting. “Miranda,” she tuts. “What have I told you? You don’t need my permission to date people, you’re a grown ass woman. Second, oh my  _ Lord,  _ of course it’s okay! That’s one sexy hunk of a man you got there.”

“Carol!” I exclaim, mortified but unable to hide my laughter. 

“What? It’s true,” she defends. “Anyway, I seem to have lost Sebastian’s email so can you let him know?”

“Ugh,” I groan, close to stomping my foot. “This is my relaxation day, please don’t make me talk to people!”

She laughs loudly before saying, “Bye,” and hanging up. 

When she’s gone I stare at the phone, frowning. “Uh, rude.” 

I really,  _ really  _ don’t want to interact with society right now but I have to tell both Chris and Seb that the fake relationship’s back on and that they both have to come to the wedding. Scrolling through my contacts, I send a quick text to Chris inviting him over and call Sebastian. 

“Hello?” he answers groggily, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Hey,” I chirp, wandering into the kitchen to flick on the kettle. “I have news.” 

“And what news is that, doll?” Seb drawls. 

“So you know my cousin Lindsey?” I ask, making my tea and popping a bagel in the toaster. 

“Hmmm,” he replies. 

“She’s getting married,” I tell him, “and Aunt Carol invited Lautner to the wedding.”

“And…” he prompts, his suspicion growing. 

“Okay, you can’t judge me when I say this, you know how Carol can be…” 

“Miranda,” he warns, sounding half confused half concerned. 

“I kind of told her that I’m dating Chris and now you both have to be at the wedding,” I blurt out, biting my lip as I await a response. 

“I’m coming over,” he announces before the phone clicks off. 

Sighing, I sit on a stool and bury my face in my hands. My life is such a mess. 


	12. Treat Her Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda has to explain the new circumstances to her boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short but the last sentence felt like a natural stopping point so... I stopped. XD

_ Bundled in blankets and curled on my couch, I try to drown my problems in ice cream and TV. Yeah, it doesn’t work, and when an advert for Endgame flashes on, I haul the remote at the screen, missing it by a centimetre, before breaking down in tears.  _

_ “How could he?!” I howl, punching a nearby pillow. “How could he do this to me?!” _

_ All the energy leaves my body at once and I fall limp against the cushions as my body quakes with ugly sobs.  _

_ ************************** _

After explaining the whole situation to the two men, I sit back, chewing on my bottom lip and waiting for an answer. “Wow,” Chris says, leaning back into the cushions, his eyebrows furrowed. “Wow.”

“I’m really sorry, Chris,” I apologise, feeling bad that I’ve put him in this position. “If you want, I can call her back, explain everything to her and Lautner.”

“No!” he objects quickly, straightening to take my hand in his. “No,” he repeats a little more softly. “Don’t do that. I don’t mind helping you out, it’s what friends do.”

The word friends catches in my mind and I remember something Carol once told me when I was young,  _ be careful what you say, a single word can be torture for another.  _ Boy was she right! Nothing stings more than the implication that you’re nothing more than a friend to the most gorgeous man on Earth. 

“I think I gotta problem with it,” Seb drawls his eyebrows knitted together. 

From my position on the coffee table, I can see both of them and I watch both of their faces carefully. Chris turns to his friend, with a look of… plea? Seba, on the other hand, is studiously avoiding his gaze, instead staring at me. “You can’t think that this is a good idea.”

“I mean,” I shrug, confused as to why he’s so disapproving. “It’s the best I’ve got.”

The frown he wears makes me feel small and stupid, two emotions that I’ve never experienced in his company. “Miranda,” he says, his voice full of warning. 

“Oh my  _ God,  _ Seb!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “Can’t you just be supportive?”

“I’m always supportive,” he sighs heavily, rubbing his temples, “but this time I’m genuinely concerned that it won’t turn out how you want it to.”

A small smile curves the corners of my lips and I take his hand in my free one, making him look up at me. Okay, maybe he could be a little more optimistic but it’s sweet that he cares that much about me. “Seba, sweetheart, I promise it’ll be fine.”

He still looks sceptical but manages a small nod. “Okay… okay, I trust you. And you,” he turns to Chris, “you’d better treat her well.” 

“When have I done anything less?” 


	13. A/N - Typing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helpful tip to type fast!

Hey guys,

So another writer I know just sent me a link to a short speed typing test. It's only 1 min long and if you do it twice a day you will find that you'll be typing much faster very soon. Typing quickly is a useful skill for writers because it means we can get things done faster so I recommend giving it a go!

Here's the link: <https://www.livechatinc.com/typing-speed-test/#/>

Thanks for reading!

-CeCe x


	14. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling frustrated and exhausted, Miranda turns to the one person who understands.

Having completely forgotten about anything work related, it’s a nasty reminder when my phone starts ringing loudly through the silent apartment. Cursing softly, I jump up to answer it. 

“Miranda Hartley, how can I help?” I ask, my voice more sarcastic than I intend. 

“Hello,” a curt voice asserts. “It’s Avnish. I have news on the case.”

“Go on,” I grind out, still angry at how he’d treated his superior. 

“No need to be rude,” he says, and I swear if he were in this room I wouldn’t be able to keep my composure but, since he’s not, I manage to be civil. “Turns out that they don’t actually have further ground but are prepared to basically make some up.”

“What?” I exclaim. “They wouldn’t!”

“Oh, they would,” he replies. “Look, I’ve brought in a small professional team and they’re gonna deal with it. If we have a problem we’ll call you.”

Without waiting for a response, he hangs up and I can’t suppress my growl of frustration. Needing to vent my anger, I decide to visit the one person who has shown that he understands. 

_ ************************** _

_ My day was spent locked in my room, ignoring the endless ringing of my phone and burrowing beneath my blankets to hide from the world. Sometimes everything feels too bright, too happy for the darkness in my head. It is then, hidden in my own cave of depression, that I start to understand that where there is love, there is vulnerability to pain, and that pain will stay with you forever.  _

_ ************************** _

When he doesn’t answer the door, I try the handle and am surprised to find that it swings open as though he was expecting guests. Rolling my eyes at the mess of his apartment,  I notice that his kettle’s boiling and walk to the kitchen to make his coffee for him. I’m appalled, however, to find an unmade pot noodle container sitting on the counter, waiting to be assembled with hot water. “Christopher Robert Evans!” I call, appalled at his meal. 

A moment later he comes stumbling into the room, tucking a towel around his waist. 

“Miranda?” He takes a step forward and I can see the droplets of water glistening off his hair. “Why the hell are you in my kitchen? Not that I don’t want you here, of course.” he amends hurriedly. 

“What? Can’t a girl just visit her boyfriend?” I tease with a wink. “And it’s a good thing that I did, are you really going to eat this muck?” I pick up the pot noodles and make an exaggerated ick face, hating the stuff myself. 

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks, lurching forward to grab the pot as I dangle it over the bin. 

“Everything,” I reply bluntly. “Look, if you throw that away I’ll make you lunch.” 

He shrugs and smiles, tossing the pot in the bin before sitting at the island and watching me intently. “Watcha gonna make?” he asks, leaning on his hands and grinning. 

“Not sure,” I reply, opening his fridge, “let’s see what’s in here.” The fridge… well the fridge is interesting. Instead of normal foods like fruits, vegetables and meat, he has a…  _ unique  _ selection of ingredients that make zero sense together. Let’s take the mackerel, for example, fine on it’s own, but completely strange with… anchovy paste? What the hell is that? 

“Chris…?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. 

“Why have you got,” I pull out the jar and show it to him, “anchovy paste in your fridge?”

“Who knows?” he claims with a cheeky grin. “But a question for you, why are you in my apartment? I mean you’re welcome anytime but why?”

“Oh,” I sigh, putting down the paste. “Work. Avnish, you know the head of legal? He told me that Crawford Inc, the company we’re up against, are willing to make up ground for a lawsuit.”

He blinks at me, his mouth forming a cute circle.  _ No, not cute, never cute.  _ “They would really do that?”

I nod, “Apparently so.”

“And,” he rubs the back of his neck, “and how come you came here instead of Seb’s?”

Okay, I was not expecting  _ that.  _ “Um, Seb, he’s always been kind of…,” I exhale, puffing out my cheeks and massaging my temples. “Don’t get me wrong, I love him to pieces, but he just doesn’t seem to get it. Like I know that everyone gets stressed sometimes but for me it’s  _ all the time,  _ and I don’t think he knows how to deal with it because it’s never happened to him before. You, well you’re the only person who’s come close.”

“Oh,” he exclaims, seemingly surprised. “I… well now I don’t know what to say.” He laughs nervously and looks up at me through his eyelashes. The very act takes my breath away and I find myself gazing into his cerulean blue eyes. The way his baby blue eyes sparkle when he looks at me makes me want him even more.  _ That is not a thought you should be having,  _ my inner voice scolds me,  _ what would Seb think? What would Carol think?  _

“You don’t need to say anything,” I tell him, opening a few cupboards and taking out a bag of pasta. “The fact that you’re listening is enough.”

“Yeah, well.” His blush is adorably attractive and I smile at him. 

“Okay,” I say, clapping my hands together. “How’d you feel about anchovy-pesto pasta with cashews and basil?” 

“Scott hates cashews,” he tells me. 

“Who’s Scott?” I ask, confused. I don’t know a Scott. 

“My brother,” he answers, “did I not tell you he’s coming over?”

“What?!” I exclaim, horrified. “I’m meeting you’re brother in ripped leggings and this weird ass shirt?!”

He looks me over, a smile curling at is lips. “You look perfect,” he compliments, and I raise one eyebrows, disbelieving. 

“I look homeless,” I argue, tugging at the hem of the shirt. “You have anything I can wear?”

Something dances in his eyes and he nods, coming around the island to grab my hand and pull me with him down the corridor. “What can I take?” I ask as he opens the cupboard. 

“Anything you want,” he replies, stepping back and leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. 

I raise an eyebrow at him,  _ you really wanna let me loose in your cupboard?  _ He nods ever so slightly,  _ go ahead, sweetheart.  _

Well okay then. Turning away from him, I rifle through the hangers until I find a shirt I can work with. It’s a long, dark checked shirt with a short collar and rolled sleeves. Placing that on the bed behind me, I figure that if I can find some sports shorts or something similar I can put that underneath and call it a day. Once I’ve put together a suitable outfit, I usher Chris out of the room so I can change. 

“You done?” he calls through the door. 

“Just a sec!” I call back. Just as I come out of the room, the doorbell rings so Chris rushes to answer the door. 

“Chris!” A male voice exclaims, and the two men do a very masculine hug/back-slap. 

“How are you?” Chris asks as they both come into the main room. 

“Awesome!” Okay, I love this guy, why’s he so happy? Scott’s eyes turn to me, a cheeky glimmer in them. “And who’s this?”

“Hi,” I greet, stepping forward to offer my hand, “I’m Chris’s girlfriend. 


End file.
